f 


r 


Lloydl  Os bourne 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 

Bought  from  the 
HORACE  DAVIS  BEQUEST 


/  -t-C^Al^ 
I 

iVvirs^X 


THE 
ADVENTURER 


BY  LLOYD  OSBOURNE. 


The  Adventurer 

Wild  Justice 

Baby  Bullet 

Three  Speeds  Forward 

The  Queen  Versus  Billy 

Love,  the  Fiddler        The  Notormaniacs 


In  Collaboration  'with  Robert  Louis  Stevenson 

The  Wrong  Box 
The  Ebb-Tide  The  Wrecker 


The  ship  drove  through  a  sea  of  rearing  horses  and  naked, 
shrieking  humanity." 

[Page  258.] 


THE 

ADVENTURER 

LLOYD    OSBOURNE 


Author  of  "Baby  Bullet," 
"Wild  Justice,"  etc. 


D.    APPLETON     AND     COMPANY 
NEW    YORK  MCMVII 


COPYRIGHT,  1907,  BY 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 

COPYRIGHT,  1907,  BY 
THE  RIDGWAY  COMPANY 


Published  September,  1907 


•  I 

08  \ 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 
PAGE 


"The  ship  drove  through  a  sea  of  rearing  horses  and  naked, 
shrieking  humanity" Frontispiece 

"It  struck  him  for  the  first  time,  too,  that  the  house  was 

dark" 8 

"  '  That's  the  bargain,  Kirkpatrick  '  " 58 

"Lurching,  groaning,  discordantly  protesting  .  .  .  she  flew 

onward"  .  222 


THE    ADVENTURER 


CHAPTER   I 

H Y  do  other  men  succeed,  and  I  fail  ?  "  How 
often  does  the  unsuccessful  man  ask  himself 
this  question  as  he  sees  about  him,  on  every 
side,  the  evidences  of  an  unattainable  prosper- 
ity. Clods  risen  to  greatness;  mediocrities 
snuggled  into  warm  berths ;  dull  fellows,  without  an  idea  in 
their  wooden  heads,  perceived  high  up  the  ladder,  securely 
perched  in  affluence.  What  of  better  men  at  the  bottom, 
from  whom  has  been  withheld  this  magic  power?  What's  the 
matter  with  them?  What  invisible  lead  is  weighing  down 
their  unfortunate  feet?  Why  has  Fate  assigned  them  all 
the  kicks,  and  reserved  the  halfpence  for  the  others? 

Lewis  Kirkpatrick,  on  the  top  of  a  Chelsea  bus,  was 
moodily  turning  over  these  things  in  his  mind.  Ordinarily 
he  would  have  given  them  very  little  thought,  but  the  driz- 
zling London  day  was  favorable  to  introspection,  as  like- 
wise were  the  nine  shillings  and  eightpence  in  his  pocket. 
Nine  shillings  and  eightpence  and  the  clothes  he  stood  in! 
That  was  what  Kirk  had  to  show  for  thirty-two  years  of 
an  active  and  adventurous  life. 
Nine  shillings  and  eightpence! 

To  look  at  him  you  certainly  would  have  thought  he 
might  have  done  better.     His  blue  eyes  were  bright  as  a 

I 


THE   ADVENTURER 

girl's — it  wasn't  drink  that  ailed  Kirk.  There  was  charac- 
ter in  his  firm  mouth;  courage  in  his  chin;  fearlessness  and 
honesty  in  the  carriage  of  his  head.  A  fine-looking  man  in- 
deed— tall,  clean  built,  manly — with  broad  shoulders  and 
a  shapely  neck.  Not  at  all  the  type  of  failure,  though  a  fail- 
ure he  was.  A  man  damned  by  his  own  ability,  and  cursed 
by  a  restlessness  that  prevented  him  forever  from  taking  root. 
Born  of  an  old  New  England  stock,  reared  a  gentleman,  and 
at  nineteen,  through  the  death  of  his  parents,  cast  out  in  the 
world  to  shift  for  himself — such  was  Kirk's  earlier  history. 
He  could  swim  anywhere,  make  a  living  anywhere — and  this 
fatal  facility  had  been  his  ruin.  So  soon  as  he  learned  that 
he  could  always  make  the  world  feed  and  clothe  him  his 
wanderings  began — began,  never  to  end. 

He  had  enough  knowledge  of  the  sea  to  make  it  bear  him 
where  he  wished.  He  could  hand,  reef  and  steer,  heave  the 
lead,  and  box  the  compass.  You  don't  need  much  sailoriz- 
ing  nowadays  to  ship  aboard  a  steamer  or  a  fore  and  after. 
He  was  something  of  a  navigator,  too,  and  could  take  a 
sight.  He  could  cook,  figure  out  accounts  for  the  captain 
or  supercargo,  work  a  donkey  engine,  and  repack  a  leaky 
stuffing  box.  What's  called  a  handy  man,  and  always  very 
quick  to  learn.  On  shore  his  abilities  were  even  more 
extensive.  Tutor,  photographer,  surveyor,  bookkeeper — 
mender  of  guns  and  clocks  and  sewing  machines — odd  job- 
man,  tinsmith,  paperhanger,  sailmaker.  A  good  mechanical 
draughtsman,  knew  something  of  assaying  and  reduction 
processes,  could  shoe  a  horse,  milk,  shear  sheep,  and  set  type. 
To  offset  the  impression  that  our  hero  was  the  eighth  won- 
der of  the  world,  let  us  admit  frankly  that  he  did  none  of 
these  things  too  well.  It  was  just  the  Yankee  faculty  of 
turning  his  hand  to  anything,  and  managing  after  a  fashion 
to  pull  through.  Part  bluff — part  raw  inherent  ability — 

2 


THE   ADVENTURER 

and  both  aided  by  a  pleasant  voice,  good  humor,  and  very 
winning  manners.  Kirk  was  a  favorite  everywhere. 

The  previous  year  he  had  had  no  more  thought  of  ever 
finding  himself  in  London  than  in  Kamchatka.  He  had  been 
trading  in  the  Kingsmill  Islands — on  a  little  dot  of  a  South 
Sea  atoll  named  Arorai.  Beginning  with  no  capital,  and 
"  staked  "  by  a  Chinese  merchant  named  Quo  Hong  Fat,  he 
had  gradually  worked  up  a  very  good  business.  True,  he 
was  still  three  thousand  dollars  in  debt,  but  his  turnover 
was  steadily  growing  more  and  more  considerable,  and  a 
few  years  would  have  found  him  the  owner  of  his  store  and 
stock,  and  in  possession  of  a  comfortable  independence.  One 
night,  however,  as  he  was  sitting  and  dreaming  on  the  edge 
of  the  lagoon,  the  smoke  of  a  neighboring  fire  blew  into  his 
face.  At  the  same  moment  the  long  and  continuous  roar  of 
a  mighty  comber  burst  upon  his  ears.  It  was  as  though 
some  great  express  train  had  thundered  by,  leaving  in  its 
wake  the  cindery  smell  of  civilization.  Again  Kirk  waited 
for  the  roll  on  the  reef,  again  he  shut  his  eyes  and  breathed 
in  the  acrid  smoke;  again  he  had  the  startling  effect  of  the 
train  whizzing  past  him  in  the  dark.  When  he  arose  it  was 
to  find  himself  hating  Arorai,  hating  his  lonely  life  among 
the  savages,  on  fire  to  escape  at  any  cost,  and  get  back  to 
the  world  of  men.  The  demon  of  restlessness  took  him  by 
the  throat,  and  all  his  bygone  hopes  and  plans  disappeared 
in  the  throes  of  an  aching  homesickness.  Not  the  literal 
homesickness  for  the  place  where  he  had  been  born,  but  for 
people — white  people — the  bustle  and  roar  of  civilization  as 
exemplified  by  that  train — that  train  compounded  of  the 
smoke  of  a  naked  savage's  fire  and  the  green  seas  bursting 
against  the  coral. 

He  nailed  up  the  store,  made  an  exact  division  of  his  ac- 
counts, buried  nine  hundred  Chile  dollars  in  the  copra-shed, 

3 


THE   ADVENTURER 

and  gave  the  Hawaiian  missionary  a  sealed  letter  to  be  sub- 
sequently delivered  to  Quo  Hong  Fat.  He  retained  two  hun- 
dred and  twenty  Chile  dollars  (a  little  over  a  hundred  in 
our  money) — a  sum  which  he  considered  rightfully  his  own — 
and  then  began  to  count  the  days  till  a  ship  might  call.  It 
mattered  not  where  it  came  from,  or  where  it  was  likely  to 
go.  Any  road  was  Kirk's  road  so  long  as  it  led  from  Arorai. 

The  barkentine  Ransom  gave  him  a  lift  to  Sydney,  New 
South  Wales,  from  which  a  month  later  he  shipped  as  A.  B. 
on  the  British  tramp  Windsor  Castle  for  the  port  of  Lon- 
don. Here  in  due  time  he  arrived,  with  thirty-nine  pounds 
in  his  pocket;  and  installing  himself  in  humble  lodgings  in 
Radnor  Street,  Chelsea,  took  in  the  tail  of  the  London  sea- 
son. He  did  the  galleries  of  all  the  theaters,  took  in  all  the 
sights  from  the  Tower  to  Kew,  sat  in  the  Park  in  his  shabby 
blue  clothes,  and  watched  the  wonderful  procession  of  the 
smart  and  the  great.  Saw  the  king  bowling  by  in  a  gold 
carriage,  with  postillions  and  outriders.  Saw  Westminster 
Abbey.  Spent  long  days  in  museums.  Took  trips  in  the 
penny  steamers.  Gorged  himself  with  civilization. 

He  hoarded  his  money ;  carried  his  lunch  in  a  paper  pack- 
age; read  the  daily  paper  in  a  free  reading  room;  grudged 
every  cent  that  debited  itself  upon  his  freedom.  Not  that 
he  had  any  fear  of  want.  Shipping  was  brisk,  and  the  port 
short-handed.  Three  pounds  ten  were  the  wages  out  of  Lon- 
don; and  often,  as  mentally  he  cast  up  his  accounts  on  his 
homeward  way,  the  bells  would  ring  out  the  refrain:  Three 
pounds  ten,  three  pounds  ten,  three  pounds  ten — at  once 
comforting  and  disquieting — as  the  inevitable  end  of  his  holi- 
day forced  itself  upon  him. 

One  afternoon,  returning  somewhat  earlier  than  usual,  he 
discovered  the  sidewalk  blocked  with  a  large  part  of  his  land- 
lady's effects.  From  the  door  more  were  issuing  in  a  pell- 

4 


THE   ADVENTURER 

mell  manner,  suggestive  of  riot  and  revolution,  while  the 
unfortunate  lady  herself,  in  a  sea  of  wreckage,  was  tearfully 
expostulating  with  a  red-faced  man.  It  seemed  that  Mrs. 
Brundage — such  was  the  worthy  creature's  name — had  been 
dispossessed;  and  lacking  the  sum  of  eleven  pounds  fifteen 
shillings  and  ninepence  was  in  the  process  of  being  put  out 
on  the  street.  Of  all  human  catastrophes,  there  are  few 
more  moving  to  the  heart.  The  dejected  furniture,  the  tum- 
bled mattresses,  the  poor,  shabby  household  gods  shivering 
in  the  rain — it  is  a  hard  man,  indeed,  who  does  not  feel  a 
gush  of  pity  at  such  a  sight.  Though  he  could  but  ill  afford 
it,  Kirk  paid  the  sum  demanded,  and  laid  up  in  Heaven 
£11.15.9  X  100. 

On  earth  this  left  him  with  exactly  two  pounds,  fourteen 
shillings  and  threepence  halfpenny! 

The  populace  acclaimed  his  noble  action.  The  red-faced 
man  gave  him  a  receipt.  Mrs.  Brundage,  inarticulate  with 
gratitude,  assured  him  brokenly  that  he  would  not  be  out  a 
penny,  and  that  he  was  to  consider  his  board  and  lodging 
paid  up  in  advance  for  sixteen  weeks  to  come.  Had  the  un- 
fortunate lady  been  better  able  to  live  up  to  this  contract  Kirk 
would  have  been  pleased  enough.  But  as  he  assisted  her  to 
carry  in  her  belongings  a  gnawing  incredulity  beset  him,  and 
he  reflected  somewhat  drearily  on  the  speculative  nature  of 
his  tenure  in  No.  7.  Later  on,  he  went  out  and  bought  five 
pounds  of  shag  tobacco,  and,  determining  not  to  borrow 
trouble,  smoked  a  philosophic  pipe  amid  the  Brundage  ruins. 
If  all  went  well  he  might  now  count  on  food,  lodging, 
and  tobacco  for  sixteen  weeks  —  and  with  fourteen  shil- 
lings in  hand  to  meet  any  unforeseen  emergencies  was  pre- 
pared to  see  a  lot  more  of  London  before  he  must  needs 
sign  on. 

"  Three   pounds   ten"    rang   out   the   bells   of    St.    Ste- 

5 


THE   ADVENTURER 

phen's.  "  Three  pounds  ten,  three  pounds  tenf  three  pounds 
ten!" 

"  Don't  you  worry,  old  fellow,"  said  Kirk.  "  I'm  going 
to  stick  it  out  in  London  for  a  long  time  yet !  " 

For  a  while  it  looked  as  though  he  might.  Mrs.  Brun- 
dage  had  a  brief  period  of  prosperity  induced  by  two  new 
lodgers.  The  morning  bloater  gave  way  to  a  slice  of  ham; 
tea  was  occasionally  brightened  with  sausage;  the  midday 
lunch  packet  swelled  in  bulk.  Now  an  apple,  now  a  large 
juicy  pickle  rewarded  our  sightseeing  friend  on  the  summit  of 
his  bread  and  oleomargarine.  The  number  of  things  you 
can  see  for  nothing  in  London  is  simply  astounding.  Time 
and  shoe  leather  are  the  only  requisites.  You  can  hear  free 
lectures,  too,  on  every  conceivable  subject,  from  radium  to 
Greek  art.  You  can  listen  to  noble  and  inspiring  music  in 
ancient  churches,  and  feel  (for  nothing)  the  uplifting  of  the 
spirit  induced  by  beautiful  and  stately  services. 

It  was  hard  work,  of  course.  It  is  always  hard  work  to 
be  very  poor.  You  have  to  walk  miles  and  miles,  and  fre- 
quently lose  your  way  in  the  bewildering  labyrinth  of  the 
streets.  But  the  point  to  Kirk  was  that  one  could  pass  long 
and  profitable  days  without  the  expenditure  of  a  cent.  The 
treasure-houses  of  the  world  were  open  to  him.  Wonders 
of  art  and  science,  assembled  at  incalculable  expense,  and  at 
incalculable  pains  were  as  much  for  him  to  look  at  as  for 
any  duke.  Kirk,  in  his  shabby,  blue  suit,  in  his  dented  billy- 
cock hat,  in  his  clumsy  boots  already  far  down  at  the  heel 
— Kirk  would  have  delighted  his  unknown  benefactors  by  his 
zest  and  eagerness.  Often  in  his  heart  he  thanked  them  for 
the  privileges  they  had  given  him,  and  frequently  stopped 
before  their  busts  or  portraits  to  accord  them  his  meed  of 
gratitude. 

"  Well  done,  old  fellow,"  he  would  say.  "  Wish  I  could 
6 


THE   ADVENTURER 

tell  you  how  much  obliged  I  am  to  you!  "  And  thus  paus- 
ing before  the  effigy  of  the  Right  Honorable  Lord  Some- 
thing Something,  with  half  the  alphabet  tacked  on  behind 
him,  Kirk  would  pay  his  homage  to  the  mighty  dead. 

In  all  his  wandering  and  lonely  life  he  had  longed  for 
these  things  that  now  at  last  were  within  his  reach.  He  had 
the  imagination  that  can  invest  dead  things  with  life.  He 
was  the  sort  of  man  that  could  get  a  thrill  at  the  sight  of 
old  classic  jewelry  and  traverse  the  intervening  centuries  till 
he  seemed  to  see  the  women  that  wore  them  in  the  dim  and 
wonderful  past — an  American  of  a  not  uncommon  type — to 
whom  the  crudities  of  his  own  new  land,  and  of  his  own 
materialistic  generation,  had  left  hungry  for  romance  and 
beauty. 

Thus  the  gray  days  passed — not  gray  to  him — but  bright 
with  the  inner  sunshine  of  long-cherished  hopes  fulfilled. 
The  only  disturbing  element  was  the  uncertainty  of  the 
Brundage  raft,  and  the  likelihood  of  its  suddenly  foundering 
in  the  financial  seas.  The  two  new  lodgers  had  flown  away. 
Ham,  sausage,  and  pork  pies  became  but  memories  of  the 
past.  Bloater  again  predominated — bloater  and  tears.  Mrs. 
Brundage's  tremulous  smile  grew  more  tremulous,  and  a 
period  of  strange  disappearances  set  in.  Familiar  objects 
unaccountably  vanished.  This  mysterious  shedding  of  things 
material  first  effected  Mrs.  Brundage's  person — her  cameo 
brooch,  her  old-fashioned  earrings,  her  wedding  ring — and 
by  degrees,  spreading  like  some  malignant  disease,  it  swept 
whole  mantelpieces,  and  devoured  beds,  mattresses,  and 
washstands.  The  interior  of  No.  7  Radnor  Street  was  melt- 
ing like  snow  in  the  sun,  and  one  waited  apprehensively  for 
the  walls  to  follow. 

Another  red-faced  man  might  now  be  encountered,  smok- 
ing a  pipe  in  the  basement,  and  stolidly  reading  a  sporting 

7 


THE   ADVENTURER 

paper.  Mrs.  Brundage  referred  to  him  as  her  brother,  and 
seemed  greatly  agitated  at  his  visit.  He  was  an  unobtrusive, 
uncommunicative  person,  with  a  faculty  for  gluing  himself 
all  day  to  a  chair  and  detaching  his  mind  from  the  life  about 
him.  It  pleased  Kirk  to  see  the  widow's  relations  rallying 
to  her  side,  and  he  ascribed  the  fellow's  taciturnity  to  the 
undemonstrative  English  nature.  But  there  were  occasions 
when  he  could  not  resist  a  certain  misgiving — occasions  when 
the  silent  stranger  took  on  a  more  ominous  aspect,  and  he 
asked  himself  whether  indeed  he  were  a  brother  at  all,  or  not 
perhaps  some  obscure,  legal  phenomenon  of  a  disquieting  and 
threatening  nature. 

Well,  to  get  back  to  Kirk  on  the  bus  where  we  left 
him,  you  will  remember,  in  the  drizzle  of  a  late  October 
afternoon.  He  had  put  in  the  day  at  Greenwich  Observa- 
tory, walking  there  and  back,  and  had  found  himself  so 
footsore  and  weary  on  his  return  that  he  had  extravagantly 
climbed  on  top  of  the  first  Chelsea  bus.  A  brooding  sense 
of  impending  misfortune  was  too  strong  to  be  shaken  off. 
His  conscience,  too,  was  troubling  him.  Although  legally 
entitled  to  nine  weeks  more  of  board  and  lodging  his  man- 
hood revolted  from  imposing  himself  any  longer  on  Mrs. 
Brundage.  He  had  to  draw  the  line  somewhere,  and  why 
not  at  eating  the  first  floor  front? 

Descending  at  the  King's  Road  he  turned  into  Radnor 
Street.  He  walked  up  the  steps  of  No.  7  and  knocked. 
Waited,  and  knocked  again.  Mrs.  Brundage  was  unusually 
slow  in  opening  the  door.  It  struck  him  for  the  first  time, 
too,  that  the  house  was  dark — that  no  light  showed  from  any 
of  the  windows.  He  knocked  again — rap,  rap,  rap.  A  head 
popped  up  from  the  neighboring  area-way. 

"Looking  for  Mrs.  Brundage?" 

"  Yes." 

8 


"It  struck  him  for  the  first  time,  too,  that  the  house  was 
dark." 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  She  ain't  'ere  no  more.  She  went  away  a  nour  ago 
in  a  keb  with  her  married  sister !  " 

"  But  I  don't  understand.  Hold  on — what's  the  matter? 
When  is  she  coming  back?  " 

"  She  ain't  coming  back  at  all.     She's  sold  up!  " 


CHAPTER   II 

'T  took  Kirk  a  moment  to  collect  himself. 
Tired  and  hungry,  he  did  not  at  first  appre- 
ciate the  full  magnitude  of  his  misfortune. 
Then  he  remembered  his  kit  inside,  his  to- 
bacco, his  rubber  boots,  his  overcoat — all  his 
poor,  cheap  outfit  without  which  he  would  be  lost  indeed. 
Had  Mrs.  Brundage  packed  and  left  them  with  the  frowsy 
maid-of-all  work  next  door? 

"  A  sort  of  blue  'old-all,  wasn't  it?  " 
Kirk  eagerly  indorsed  this  description. 
"  It  went  in  the  van  with  the  rest!  " 
"  But,  good  heavens,  it  was  everything  I  have  in  the 
world!" 

"Too  bad!" 

"But  the  van — where  did  it  go  to?" 
"  Dunno." 

"  What  am  I  to  do  about  it  ?  "• 
"  Dunno." 

"  Have  you  any  idea  where  her  married  sister  lives?  " 
"  Dunno." 

"  What  did  she  say  to  the  cabman  ?  " 
"  Nothink.     Just  drove  orf !  " 

Kirk  was  too  dazed  to  put  any  further  questions.  He 
walked  into  the  King's  Road  again.  "  Signing  on,"  which 
so  recently  had  appeared  the  solution  of  all  his  difficulties 
now  took  a  very  different  look.  Sea  life  is  hard  enough, 
even  with  a  modest  outfit  of  flannels  and  socks — of  boots, 

10 


THE   ADVENTURER 

oilskins,  and  spare  changes.  Without  them — ?  A  man 
couldn't  hope  for  any  advance  except  on  a  deep-water  vessel. 
But  Kirk  had  no  fancy  for  square-riggers.  He  wasn't 
enough  of  a  sailor  for  that.  They  would  find  him  out  in 
no  time,  and  probably  disrate  him.  The  food  was  atrocious, 
too,  and  it's  no  joke  to  pass  a  weather  earing  on  a  stormy 
night,  with  a  brute  of  a  mate  swearing  at  you  like  a  bull  of 
Bashan.  Kirk's  desire  was  for  steam.  But  he  didn't  want 
to  die  of  pneumonia,  or  be  a  rheumatic  cripple  for  the  rest  of 
his  life.  No,  he  must  try  to  get  a  job  ashore,  and  save  suffi- 
cient money  for  a  new  kit. 

Turning  over  these  thoughts  in  his  mind  he  at  length 
stopped  at  a  baker's  and  bought  a  twopenny  loaf.  And  then, 
out  into  the  street  again,  surreptitiously  eating  it  while  pre- 
tending to  gaze  into  the  shop  windows.  He  made  his 
way  to  the  free  reading  room,  and  ensconsed  himself  in  a 
warm  corner  with  a  couple  of  the  daily  papers.  Surely 
somewhere  in  the  advertisement  columns  he  would  find  his 
job.  He  had  to  find  his  job,  and  find  it  double-quick.  He 
had  nine  shillings  and  sixpence  in  his  pocket,  and  not  a  single 
thing  he  could  pawn — not  even  the  overcoat  that  he  had 
stupidly  forgotten  to  take  with  him  that  morning.  Nothing ! 
In  all  his  past  vicissitudes  he  had  never  quite  touched  such 
bedrock  before,  and  in  the  worst  of  his  evil  days  could  always 
at  least  recall  a  companion  or  two  with  whom  he  had 
chummed  in.  His  present  loneliness  daunted  him,  and  he 
would  have  given  years  of  his  life  for  a  pal.  True  is  it  in- 
deed that  misery  loves  company. 

The  Daily  Telegraph  began  badly,  and  ended  worse.  No 
jobs  here — only  a  disturbing  feeling  that  men  of  marked 
ability  were  a-begging,  and  their  services  attainable  for  a 
song.  The  Daily  Mail  wras  equally  depressing.  Kirk  em- 
bezzled the  Times  from  an  old  gentleman  who  was  nodding 
2  II 


THE   ADVENTURER 

off  to  sleep ;  and  a  perusal  of  its  columns  lowered  his  spirits 
to  zero.  Employers  wanted  deposits,  references,  certificates, 
and  degrees.  They  flung  out  their  haughty  demands  with 
the  consciousness  that  they  could  make  their  own  terms. 
Paragons  of  learning  were  invited  to  East  Dulwich  for  a 
hundred  pounds  a  year,  to  rise  by  yearly  increments  of  five 
pounds  to  a  final  hundred  and  sixty.  Unfortunate  govern- 
esses, capable  of  teaching  everything  under  the  sun,  were  ex- 
pected to  be  of  an  exact  shade  of  Protestantism,  total  ab- 
stainers, attractively  mannered,  and  pay  for  their  own  wash- 
ing— out  of  thirty  pounds  per  annum.  The  British  Empire, 
as  thus  reviewed  by  a  perishing  stranger,  seemed  to  offer  as 
few  opportunities  as  the  upper  Congo  or  the  White  Nile. 

By  Jove,  here  was  something!  On  the  first  page,  three 
items  down  the  second  column !  Caught  and  lost  in  the  twin- 
kling of  an  eye,  and  then  caught  again.  Kirk's  breath  came 
quickly  as  he  read  the  startling  advertisement.  Here  was 
something  that  might  pan  out.  Here  was  a  job  that  appealed 
to  all  the  adventurer  in  his  nature : 

WANTED:  Resolute  men,  thirty  to  thirty-five,  single,  of 
superior  education,  inured  to  hardship  and  danger;  honest, 
sober,  good-tempered,  and  above  everything  able  to  hold  their 
tongues.  Apply  by  letter  in  own  writing,  giving  antecedents, 
to  DESPERATE  ENTERPRISE,  No.  199,024  Times. 

Kirk  did  not  wait  to  analyze  it,  did  not  waste  time  in 
speculation.  It  was  enough  that  he  seemed  to  fill  the  bill, 
and  all  his  thoughts  were  directed  to  make  his  letter  of 
application  a  success.  He  would  be  taken  or  rejected  on  that 
letter,  and  it  behooved  him  to  make  it  a  little  masterpiece — 
if  he  could.  He  hurried  out  for  paper  and  envelopes,  and 
bent  himself  to  one  of  the  hardest  tasks  of  his  life.  He  felt 

12 


THE   ADVENTURER 

instinctively  that  half  the  loafers  and  ne'er-do-weels  of  Lon- 
don would  be  in  competition  against  him — hundreds  of  them, 
possibly  thousands — and  that  his  only  chance  was  to  sling 
his  ink  effectually.  He  wrote  his  letter  twenty  times — not 
on  the  precious  paper  itself — but  in  a  halfpenny  version 
book,  making  one  rough  draft  after  another.  Some  he  dis- 
carded as  too  modest;  others  as  too  breezy  and  self-compla- 
cent. His  effort  was  to  hit  the  delicate  mean  between  the 
two,  and  yet  draw  such  a  picture  of  himself  that  they'd  fall 
over  one  another  to  get  him. 

Finally  he  chose  a  sort  of  censuslike  form.  It  sounded 
curt  and  manly,  and  resolved  many  of  his  literary  perplex- 
ities. He  would  not  try  to  puff  himself — he  didn't  seem  to 
have  the  necessary  art.  A  letter  full  of  brag  would  kill  him. 
He  wrote  as  though  he  were  filling  out  a  printed  form. 
It  reminded  him  of  one  of  those  thumbnail  historiettes  which 
the  police  file  away  in  the  Rogues'  Gallery.  Not  an  extra 
word  in  it,  yet  everything  said.  Such  a  letter,  in  fact,  as  a 
resolute  man  of  thirty-two,  single,  of  superior  education, 
inured  to  hardship  and  danger;  honest,  sober,  good  tem- 
pered, and  above  everything  able  to  hold  his  tongue — might 
be  expected  to  dash  off  "  in  own  writing." 

But  what  of  an  address?  How  was  Desperate  Enter- 
prise to  reply  to  him  ?  He  appealed  to  the  grim  young  lady 
in  charge.  Might  a  letter  be  addressed  to  him  in  the  care 
of  the  free  reading  room?  She  seemed  very  much  perturbed 
at  the  suggestion.  The  rules  of  the  institution  hadn't  pro- 
vided for  such  contingencies.  She  eyed  him  darkly,  and  was 
at  length  prevailed  upon  to  give  him  a  very  grudging  assent, 
dissociating  herself  personally  from  all  liability.  It  struck 
the  grim  young  lady  as  a  scandalous  proceeding.  Suppose  it 
became  a  common  practice?  Suppose  everybody  had  their 
letters  addressed  in  care  of  the  free  reading  room  ?  What  if 

13 


THE   ADVENTURER 

the  committee  complained?  What  if  the  post  office  com- 
plained? What  if  the  other  free  readers  complained?  He 
might  do  it  once,  at  his  own  risk,  but  was  not  to  form  the 
habit.  He  wasn't  to  regard  it  as  the  thin  end  of  the  wedge, 
and  expect  to  carry  on  an  animated  correspondence.  Nor 
was  he  to  lay  it  up  against  her  if  his  letter  miscarried,  or 
got  lost,  or  was  accidentally  destroyed.  The  attitude  of  the 
free  reading  room  was  to  be  simply  passive. 

Kirk  did  not  dare  to  ask  her  for  a  stamp.  He  slunk  out 
and  bought  one  at  a  grocer's,  dropping  the  fateful  letter 
in  the  box  with  unspoken  good  wishes  for  its  safe  and  speedy 
voyage.  What  a  fool  he  was  to  count  so  much  on  it  at  all ! 
It  might  well  be  that  the  whole  thing  was  a  hoax,  or  else 
the  cracked-brain  absurdity  of  some  silly  boys.  What  if 
Desperate  Enterprise  was  aged  seventeen  and  lived  with  his 
mother?  Or  was  a  tottering  graybeard  with  romantic  illu- 
sions ?  Pshaw,  he  mustn't  take  it  too  seriously.  What  really 
was  serious  was  a  bed. 

He  got  a  shake  down  in  a  Salvation  shelter.  Fourpence, 
and  twopence  more  for  breakfast.  He  felt  dirty  and  un- 
kempt. He  cleaned  his  teeth  with  the  end  of  a  burned-out 
match,  and  combed  his  hair  with  his  hands.  The  chained 
comb  and  brush  of  Salvation  repelled  him.  But  their  water 
was  all  right,  and  so  was  their  soap.  Then  he  passed  out 
into  the  streets,  with  the  walk  of  a  man  who  has  nowhere 
to  go  and  nothing  to  do.  He  directed  himself  first  to  Rad- 
nor Street  in  the  faint  hope  of  recovering  his  clothes,  or  pos- 
sibly meeting  Mrs.  Brundage,  and  getting  on  their  track. 
But  No.  7  was  shut  and  silent,  with  the  blinds  drawn,  and 
the  steps  littered  with  odds  and  ends  of  paper  and  straw. 
Nothing  to  be  got  here  except  a  piercing  note  of  desolation. 
He  went  to  the  reading  room,  and  took  up  the  day's  papers, 
finding  in  the  Times  a  repetition  of  yesterday's  advertisement. 

14 


THE   ADVENTURER 

He  took  a  note  of  six  or  seven  others,  and  put  in  a  dreary, 
hungry  day  looking  for  work.  Two  of  them  carried  him 
to  fee-snatching  agencies,  whose  plausible  managers  tried  to 
rob  him  of  half  a  crown  a  piece.  Then  he  tried  for  a  berth 
on  one  of  the  river  steamers  and  failed.  Tried  for  a  fire- 
man's job  on  the  Southwestern  Railway  and  failed.  Tried 
at  a  type-casting  plant,  at  a  storage  warehouse,  at  a  sail- 
maker's  loft.  No  good.  Full  up,  everyone,  with  only  a 
vacancy  here  and  there  for  exceptional  men,  highly  skilled 
in  some  particular  branch.  There  was  a  linotype  job  a-beg- 
ging but  he  left  it  still  a-begging.  Dispirited  and  forlorn, 
he  returned  to  the  Salvation  shelter,  and  passed  another 
anxious  night. 

The  next  day  he  was  almost  too  out  of  heart  to  return 
to  the  free  reading  room.  His  money  was  melting  fast,  and 
common  sense  bade  him  seek  a  seaman's  institute  whose  ad- 
dress he  had,  and  try  for  a  ship.  Here,  at  any  rate,  he  had 
something  to  sell  that  somebody  wanted.  The  port  was 
short-handed,  and  sailormen  were  in  demand.  He  would  ship 
as  cook  in  a  deep-water  vessel,  and  get  a  substantial  advance. 
Not  a  job  he  fancied,  but  it  paid  good  money,  and  assured 
him  of  a  kit.  The  necessity  for  that  kit  was  looming  up 
as  the  biggest  need  in  life.  Nobody  appreciates  the  luxury 
of  cleanliness  more  than  a  man  who  is  suddenly  denied  it. 
No,  he  would  take  in  the  reading  room  on  a  chance  of  a  reply 
from  Desperate  Enterprise,  and  failing  any  word  from  that 
quarter,  would  hasten  across  the  river  to  the  institute. 

He  addressed  himself  to  the  grim  young  lady,  whose  un- 
promising countenance  did  not  serve  to  raise  his  hopes.  With 
well-calculated  rudeness  she  allowed  him  to  ask  his  ques- 
tion several  times  over  before  condescending  to  answer. 

"A  letter?     Oh,  yes,  there  was  a  letter!" 

He  took  it  from  her  with  trembling  hands,  and  retreated 
15 


THE   ADVENTURER 

to  a  corner  near  the  window.  So  much  was  at  stake  that  he 
could  not  bring  himself  all  at  once  to  open  it.  He  must 
nerve  himself  for  a  refusal.  He  must  remember  the  thou- 
sands of  other  applicants.  He  turned  over  the  envelope  in 
his  hand,  still  withheld  by  a  sort  of  dread.  The  paper  was 
of  excellent  quality,  bluish  and  thick,  and  addressed  in  a 
bold  big  hand.  Kirk  summoned  all  his  courage  and  tore  it 
open.  But  it  held  no  corresponding  bluish  thick  sheet — only 
a  few  words  typewritten  on  another  variety  of  paper :  "  You 
seem  the  kind  of  man  we  want.  Meet  me  to-day  (Wednes- 
day) at  the  Vienna  bakery,  928  High  Holborn,  at  2.30  sharp, 
recognizing  me  by  the  green  tie  I  shall  wear.  Desperate 
Enterprise." 

Kirk  read  and  reread  this  many  times.  He  was  ashamed 
of  the  exultation  it  gave  him.  Again  common  sense  bade 
him  beware,  to  steel  himself  against  disappointment,  to  dash 
cold  water  on  his  absurd  elation.  But  the  spirit  within  him 
revolted  at  these  prudent  counsels.  The  spirit  within  him 
was  on  fire,  and  the  blood  tingled  in  his  veins.  Mystery 
and  romance  were  not  to  be  set  thus  tamely  aside  and  talked 
down.  Why  should  one  be  so  confident  that  nothing  ex- 
isted in  the  world  save  the  commonplace  and  the  prosaic? 
After  all,  was  this  not  as  good  a  way  as  any  other  to  get 
recruits  for  a  desperate  enterprise — presuming  it  to  be  really 
desperate,  of  course  ?  "  More  than  anything  able  to  hold 
their  tongues."  These  words  recurred  to  him  significantly. 
Men  who  could  fulfill  all  the  terms  of  that  advertisement 
were  bound  to  be  rare.  .  .  .  Well,  there  was  one  thing  he 
might  be  certain  of.  They  weren't  after  his  money,  any- 
how. He  had  told  them  that  he  was  broke. 

It  was  a  hard  thing  to  know  how  to  fill  up  the  inter- 
vening hours — the  gap  from  nine  o'clock  to  half  past  two. 
He  decided  to  go  to  High  Holborn  and  look  up  the  rendez- 

16 


THE   ADVENTURER 

vous  designated.  Suppose,  like  so  many  places  in  London, 
it  was  almost  unfindable.  It  was  a  wonderful  old  town  for 
losing  your  way  in.  What  if  half  past  two  arrived  and  he 
was  still  groping  for  it  ?  No,  he  would  chase  up  that  Vienna 
bakery,  take  accurate  bearings  of  it,  and  find  some  neigh- 
boring garden  or  park  to  camp  in. 

Kirk's  spirit  rose  as  he  turned  out  into  the  open  air  and 
followed  the  King's  Road  into  Sloane  Street.  He  knew 
vaguely  that  High  Holborn  was  near  the  British  Museum, 
and  that  it  was  a  goodish  walk  from  Chelsea,  but  it  would 
all  help  to  fill  up  the  time  and  bring  him  nearer  half  past  two. 
It  was  the  second  day  of  November — dark  and  foggy — and 
the  chill  of  impending  winter  was  already  in  the  air.  But 
he  was  not  in  the  humor  to  find  fault  with  anything.  To 
him  at  that  moment  London  was  the  most  fascinating  city 
in  the  world.  What  was  grubbiness  and  gloom  to  a  man 
who  was  hastening  to  enroll  himself  in  a  desperate  enter- 
prise and  meet  a  mysterious  stranger  in  a  green  tie  ? 

The  Vienna  bakery  was  easily  found.  It  was  a  good- 
sized  place  at  the  gore  of  High  Holborn  and  another  street, 
and  wore  a  very  smart,  pleasant,  and  appetizing  appearance. 
Through  its  wide,  uncurtained  windows  Kirk  saw  rows  of 
little  marble  tables,  and  at  one  of  them  a  waiter  whisking 
chocolate  for  a  lady.  He  liked  the  look  of  the  Vienna 
bakery,  and  hoped  that  Green  Tie  would  stand  treat.  He 
could  hardly  do  less  under  the  circumstances,  and  Kirk  de- 
cided on  chocolate,  and  as  many  of  those  crisp  rolls  as  he 
could  venture  to  eat  without  making  too  bad  an  impres- 
sion. Six  if  he  could,  but  anyway  three!  His  hunger, 
which  had  been  very  poorly  satisfied  at  the  Salvation  shel- 
ter, became  ravenous  at  the  sight  of  these  outspread  dainties. 
He  went  in,  and  timidly  bought  a  small  loaf  of  brown  bread 
for  twopence — a  horrible  extravagance — incurred  on  the  im- 

17 


THE   ADVENTURER 

pulse  of  the  moment  and  regretted  before  he  reached  the 
street. 

But  it  was  an  excellent  little  loaf,  though  abnormally 
small  for  twopence,  and  Kirk  munched  it  hungrily  as  he 
strode  away  in  the  direction  of  the  British  Museum.  In 
his  utter  homelessness  this  venerable  pile  took  on  a  friendly 
and  welcoming  aspect.  It  assured  him  of  warmth,  of  a 
bench  to  sit  on,  of  a  clock.  Incidentally  he  could  look  up  his 
old  friends,  the  Greek  and  Roman  antiquities,  and  muse 
cheerfully  on  the  nothingness  of  man.  Standing  before  those 
noble  remnants  of  classic  ages  his  own  little  hopes  and  fears 
dwindled  into  insignificance.  He  wiped  the  telltale  crumbs 
off  his  legs,  and  altogether  felt  greatly  refreshed.  Even  the 
gray  London  light  failed  to  daunt  his  rising  courage.  If 
all  went  well  would  he  not  soon  find  himself  embarked  on 
a  Dangerous  Enterprise,  with  money  in  his  pockets,  and  bold, 
resolute  companions?  He  would  recall  this  unending  day 
as  his  starting  point  into  the  unknown,  and  amid  brighter 
scenes  would  look  back  on  it  almost  with  fondness. 

One  o'clock.  Half  past  one.  Two.  With  his  eyes 
never  off  the  clock  he  watched  the  minute  hand  tediously 
forge  around  the  dial.  At  the  quarter  he  was  suffocating, 
and  could  no  longer  adhere  to  his  determination  to  wait  for 
the  twenty  past.  Walking  fast,  at  times  almost  running, 
he  again  made  his  way  to  the  Vienna  bakery,  and  stopped 
panting  at  the  door.  He  could  not  well  go  inside  without 
ordering  something,  and  must  therefore  loiter  at  the  en- 
trance, attracting  as  little  attention  as  he  could.  There  was 
another  entrance  at  the  side  on  which  he  had  also  to  keep  a 
watch ;  and  it  was  while  he  was  in  the  spell  of  a  most  pain- 
ful excitement  that  a  tall  bulky  man  brushed  past  him,  and 
seating  himself  at  one  of  the  unoccupied  tables  exposed  to 
view  an  unmistakable  green  tie! 

18 


CHAPTER    III 

IRK  fought  down  his  first  impulse  to  rush  in 
and  seat  himself  beside  the  stranger.  He 
prudently  reconnoitered  him  instead  and 
gave  him  a  close  and  earnest  scrutiny.  Des- 
perate Enterprise  was  a  shabbily  dressed, 
good-natured,  breezy-looking,  bland  individual  of  about 
forty,  with  a  tawny  mustache  and  a  dirty  collar.  Yet  he 
had  none  of  the  air  of  a  man  down  in  his  luck,  nor  for  that 
matter  any  appearance  of  the  desperado  or  the  adventurer. 
He  had  more  the  look  of  an  actor,  and  his  whole  get-up  sug- 
gested the  theater  rather  than  the  real  vicissitudes  of  for- 
tune— and  this  effect  was  heightened  by  a  pair  of  blue  eyes 
that  twinkled  kindly  and  merrily. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Kirk,  entering  and  stopping 
diffidently  before  him.  "  I — I  believe  you  are  the  gentleman 
whom  I  was  to  have  the  honor  of  meeting  here  ?  " 

The  stranger  rose  to  his  feet,  and  assuming  a  would-be 
mysterious  expression  which  quickly  broadened  into  a  smile, 
asked  if  he  had  the  pleasure  of  shaking  hands  with  L.  K.  ? 

"  Lewis  Kirkpatrick  at  your  service,  sir,"  said  Kirk,  ac- 
cepting a  place  beside  the  stranger,  who  motioned  him  into  it, 
and  then  sat  down  himself. 

"  Call  me  Smith,"  he  said,  "  unless  you  have  a  prefer- 
ence for  something  more  high  sounding?" 

Kirk  replied  with  a  laugh  that  Smith  was  quite  acceptable 
to  him. 

"  Ha,  a  man  of  humor,"  said  Desperate  Enterprise,  laying 
19 


THE   ADVENTURER 

a  large  fat  hand  cordially  on  Kirk's  knee,  as  though  to  em- 
phasize his  approval.  "  A  fellow  who  can  see  a  joke!  Gad, 
if  all  goes  well  you'll  soon  be  initiated  into  the  biggest  joke 
of  the  century,  ha,  ha !  Waiter !  " 

Orders  were  given  and  taken.  Kirk  chose  chocolate  and 
rolls,  wondering  all  the  while  whether  he  was  dealing  with 
a  madman.  Mr.  Smith  demanded  muffins  and  a  pot  of  tea, 
and  then  settled  back  bulkily  into  his  seat. 

"  I'm  very  eager  to  hear  about  that  job,  sir,"  said  Kirk. 
Mr.  Smith's  face  changed. 

"  My  dear  man,"  he  observed,  almost  with  severity,  "  in 
this  interview  I  am  going  to  ask  the  questions,  and  you  are 
going  to  do  the  answering.  I  admit  the  one-sidedness  of  the 
arrangement,  but  this  is  due  to  circumstances  beyond  my  con- 
trol. I  am  here  in  the  capacity  of  a  sifter,  and  you  are  the 
siftee!" 

"  Very  good,"  said  Kirk.  "  I  want  to  be  in  on  this  thing, 
and  am  quite  willing  to  go  through  all  the  preliminaries." 

"  We  liked  your  letter."  Mr.  Smith  was  looking  at  him 
very  keenly,  and  Kirk's  first  impression  of  his  Companion's 
irresponsibility  began  to  change.  Here  was  plainly  a  man 
accustomed  to  read  faces;  and  his  own,  when  he  consented 
to  be  serious,  was  both  masterful  and  authoritative.  '  To 
be  absolutely  frank,  you  seem  the  kind  of  man  we  want; 
and  my  only  duty  is  to  find  out  whether  you  told  us  the 
truth." 

"  Then  go  ahead,"  said  Kirk,  in  no  way  abashed.  He 
liked  Mr.  Smith,  and  he  felt  pretty  sure  that  Mr.  Smith 
liked  him.  "  I'm  all  ready  to  turn  myself  inside  out." 

Mr.  Smith  drew  out  a  piece  of  paper  and  a  pencil. 

"  Now  about  that  navigation  ?  "  he  began  suavely.  "  You 
tell  us  you  can  work  a  sight.  Here's  an  observation  sup- 
posed to  be  taken  at  ten-thirty-three  A.M. — and  here's  a  dif- 

20 


THE   ADVENTURER 

ference  in  time  between  an  imaginary  noon  and  a  Greenwich 
noon  as  shown  by  your  imaginary  chronometer.  Would  you 
mind  giving  me  the  latitude  and  longitude?" 

Kirk  gazed  blankly  at  the  bit  of  paper  on  which  these 
facts  were  scribbled.  It  came  over  him  that  Mr.  Smith  was 
demanding  the  impossible. 

"  I  cannot  do  it,"  said  Kirk,  looking  up.  "  I'm  afraid 
you  don't  understand.  I'd  have  to  have  a  Nautical  Alma- 
nac and  the  year." 

"  1887,  July  27th,"  blandly  responded  his  examiner, 
producing  at  the  same  time  a  copy  of  the  Nautical  Alma- 
nac from  his  ulster  pocket. 

Kirk  again  looked  blank.  "  But,  Mr.  Smith,  I'd  have 
to  have  a  book  of  logarithms !  " 

"  Here,  my  friend,"  said  Mr.  Smith,  placidly  laying  down 
another  volume  on  the  marble  table. 

"And  the  error  of  the  chronometer?"  put  in  Kirk. 

From  a  waistcoat  pocket  his  smiling  inquisitor  produced 
the  rating. 

"  You  seem  to  know  a  lot  about  it,"  he  said.  "  My  dear 
man,  I  don't  know  how  you'll  end,  but  I  compliment  you 
on  your  excellent  beginning." 

Kirk  was  rusty  in  his  navigation.  Moreover  he  was  hun- 
gry and  tired,  and  so  wrought  up  that  it  was  hard  to  con- 
centrate his  faculties.  His  depression  did  not  escape  Mr. 
Smith's  watchful  eyes. 

"  Take  your  time — take  your  time,"  he  said.  "  We've 
chosen  you  out  of  nine  hundred  already.  I  can  see  you  know 
how  to  do  it.  Why,  the  last  so-called  sailor  didn't  know  he 
even  needed  an  almanac!  " 

The  waiter  rattled  down  the  refreshments.  Kirk  took  a 
sip  of  chocolate  and  began  to  figure.  Mr.  Smith  leaned  back 
and  bubbled  over  with  a  singular  entertainment. 

21 


THE  ADVENTURER 

Kirk  indeed  took  his  time.  He  did  not  dare  to  risk  a 
failure.  He  was  horribly  rusty,  and  had  a  paralyzing  mo- 
ment of  indecision  when  he  was  at  a  loss  to  decide  whether 
his  longitude  was  east  or  west.  He  sipped  some  more  choco- 
late, and  gobbled  a  roll.  Yes,  it  was  east.  How  could  he 
have  been  so  foolish  as  to  think  otherwise!  He  worked  out 
the  position  twice — independently. 

"  Here  it  is,"  he  said  at  last.  "  At  least  this  is  what  I 
make  it." 

Mr.  Smith  deliberately  produced  another  scrap  of  paper, 
remarking  as  he  did  so  that  it  was  all  Greek  to  him.  Kirk's 
labors  were  compared.  Thank  Heaven,  the  two  positions 
agreed.  He  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  hastened  to  get  out- 
side another  roll. 

"  Capital !  "  cried  Mr.  Smith,  repocketing  the  two  books, 
and  beaming  with  satisfaction.  "  Now  let  us  get  through  the 
rest  of  the  programme,  though  I'll  tell  you  right  here  that  in 
your  case  it  is  a  mere  formality." 

This  engaging  preamble  seemed  designed  to  lull  Kirk's 
suspicion ;  for  Mr.  Smith  was  as  shrewd  and  searching  in  his 
questions  as  though  he  were  some  eminent  counsel  blandly 
crushing  a  witness  into  powder.  He  popped  back  and  for- 
ward over  Kirk's  whole  career,  pinning  him  to  a  date  here, 
a  fact  there,  and  then  darting  up  like  a  jack-in-the-box  to 
tax  him  with  an  apparent  contradiction.  This  genial  and 
smiling  Mr.  Smith,  for  all  his  bonhomie  turned  out  to  be  as 
diabolical  an  inquisitor  as  ever  tore  a  fabric  of  lies  to  pieces 
in  a  court  of  law.  At  times,  too,  he  attempted  to  ruffle 
Kirk's  temper,  and  tease  him  into  some  hot  rejoinder.  Some 
of  his  questions  were  almost  insults  in  themselves,  but  Kirk 
turned  them  off  with  a  laugh,  and  refused  to  play  into  his  tor- 
mentor's hands.  Altogether,  when  at  last  they  stood  up  to 
go,  Kirk's  original  opinion  of  Mr.  Smith  had  changed  ma- 

22 


THE   ADVENTURER 

terially.  The  latter's  gay  masquerade  was  a  blind.  Under- 
neath was  a  man  of  strong  character,  cunning,  clever,  and 
full  of  guile. 

"Well,  what  next,  sir?"  asked  Kirk. 

Mr.  Smith  fumbled  in  his  pockets  for  a  card,  on  which, 
in  blue  pencil,  was  written,  "  82  Tedworth  Street.  Knock 
four  times." 

"  I  intend  making  a  very  favorable  report  on  you,"  he  re- 
marked. "  Come  to-morrow  morning  at  ten  o'clock  to  that 
address.  And  now,  my  dear  man,  good  afternoon,  and  au 
revoir" 

They  passed  out  of  the  bakery,  and  Mr.  Smith  hailed 
a  passing  hansom  and  jumped  in.  The  last  Kirk  saw  of 
him  was  a  large  fat  white  hand  waving  a  farewell. 

It  would  be  hard  to  describe  Kirk's  feelings  as  he  strolled 
down  Holborn  and  tried  to  piece  together  in  his  recollection 
all  the  details  of  that  singular  interview.  What  did  it  all 
mean,  he  asked  himself?  Who  was  this  man,  and  what  did 
he  want  of  him?  The  advertisement  had  said  nothing  of 
navigation.  No  sailorizing  was  even  mentioned  in  it.  Yet 
he  had  been  put  through  his  facings  as  though  he  had  gone 
up  to  try  for  a  Board  of  Trade  certificate.  Was  it  just  a 
part  of  the  sifting  process?  Just  an  example  of  this  Mr. 
Smith's  thoroughness?  He  had  been  three  hours  on  the  rack. 
Three  hours!  And  looking  back  on  it  he  marveled  at  the 
skill  and  completeness  with  which  his  examination  had  been 
accomplished.  His  respect  for  Mr.  Smith  was  unbounded. 
Kirk  admired  capacity,  and  it  boded  well  for  the  enterprise, 
whatever  it  might  be,  to  have  such  a  man  as  leader.  But 
was  he  the  leader?  That  "  we  "  recurred  to  Kirk.  It  was 
always  "  we."  There  was  an  impersonality  about  Mr.  Smith 
that  baffled  Kirk.  He  had  never  let  slip  a  word  or  a  hint 

23 


THE   ADVENTURER 

as  to  the  nature  of  the  undertaking.  His  easy-going,  com- 
fortable, smiling  manner  was  even  disconcerting  in  the  re- 
trospect. Not  at  all  the  manner  of  a  man  organizing  a  des- 
perate enterprise.  Yet  was  it  not  perhaps  the  mask  that 
concealed  a  very  different  Mr.  Smith  behind?  It  was  hard 
to  say.  It  was  all  very  mysterious. 

But  Kirk  was  very  happy.  These  musings  and  ques- 
tionings stirred  his  imaginations.  He  had  emerged  trium- 
phantly from  the  ordeal — that  was  the  great  thing — and  he 
was  as  good  as  enrolled  already.  He  had  no  doubts,  no 
hesitations.  An  enterprise  that  was  good  enough  for  Mr. 
Smith  was  good  enough  for  him.  It  certainly  could  be 
nothing  criminal.  It  was  impossible  to  connect  Mr.  Smith 
with  anything  criminal.  But  for  that  matter  it  was  impos- 
sible to  connect  Mr.  Smith  with  anything  at  all.  The  man 
was  an  enigma.  His  purpose  was  an  enigma.  His  light- 
heartedness  and  gayety  the  biggest  enigma  of  all.  Yet  he 
had  voluntarily  spent  three  hours  on  Kirk,  and  gone  to  a 
lot  of  pains  to  turn  him  inside  out.  He  didn't  strike  one 
as  the  sort  of  person  to  do  this  for  nothing.  Indeed,  it  repre- 
sented a  pretty  hard  afternoon's  work.  And  now  he  was 
off  to  "  report." 

Kirk  strolled  through  the  darkening  streets  with  the 
swing  and  vigor  that  come  of  success.  There  was  no  lag 
in  his  walk  now,  no  indecision  as  to  which  street  he  should 
take,  no  crumpled  list  of  addresses  to  decipher  under  the 
gaslights.  There  was  no  job  to  look  for  now.  The  job 
was  found!  He  had  won  against  nine  hundred.  All  he 
had  to  do  was  to  exist  till  the  next  day,  and  then  knock 
four  times  at  82  Tedworth  Street.  A  simple  and  exhil- 
arating programme,  easily  performed,  and  dazzling  in  its 
possibilities!  And  after  he  had  knocked  four  times?  Oh, 
well,  what  was  the  good  of  worrying  about  it?  He  re- 

24 


THE   ADVENTURER 

peated  to  himself  that  what  was  good  enough  for  Mr. 
Smith  was  good  enough  for  him. 

He  treated  himself  to  a  generous  dinner.  He  felt  that 
he  could  well  afford  it.  Roast  beef,  potatoes,  cheese,  and  a 
pewter  mug  of  beer.  A  fellow  with  a  desperate  enterprise 
before  him  was  entitled  to  live  high.  It  was  policy,  too,  to 
be  in  good  shape  for  82  Tedworth  Street.  He  had  to  make 
a  good  impression  on  "  we,"  and  confirm  Mr.  Smith's  favor- 
able opinion.  He  promised  himself  an  ample  breakfast,  a 
shave,  and  a  shine.  Perhaps  even  a  penny  flower  in  his 
buttonhole.  There  was  a  lot  at  stake.  He  felt  instinctively 
that  anything  of  Mr.  Smith's  was  bound  to  be  well  paid. 
You  are  always  well  paid  for  risking  your  life.  It  was 
only  fair  that  you  should  be.  He  hoped  it  wasn't  too  des- 
perate. He  was  willing  enough  to  take  his  chances  with 
the  rest,  but  there  was  something  to  be  said  for  a  whole  skin. 
But  what  was  the  good  of  a  whole  skin  if  you  had  nothing 
to  put  inside  it — no  beef,  no  potatoes,  no  cheese,  no  beer! 
If  you  got  right  down  to  it,  more  men  died  of  poverty  than 
were  ever  shot  in  battle  or  drowned  at  sea.  Poverty  wasn't 
as  spectacular,  but  just  as  effective.  A  man  with  any  spirit 
would  choose  a  bullet.  He  wasn't  afraid  of  bullets.  The 
only  lurking  dread  in  his  mind  was — jail.  Hard  pressed 
as  he  was,  with  his  back  to  the  wall,  he  was  not  going  to 
steal;  nor  murder;  nor  enter  the  photogravure  or  coun- 
terfeiting business.  It  had  to  be  a  straight  proposition.  But 
somehow  it  was  impossible  to  connect  Mr.  Smith  with  any- 
thing that  wasn't  straight. 

This  brought  him  back  to  the  point  that  it  was  impos- 
sible to  connect  Mr.  Smith  with  anything  at  all.  Was  the 
whole  affair  a  joke  then?  Assuredly  not.  It  was  too  con- 
sistent and  too  well  worked  out  for  a  joke.  It  represented 
too  much  calculation,  too  much  expense.  What  of  those 

25 


THE  ADVENTURER 

nine  hundred  other  applicants?  Of  those  nine  hundred  let- 
ters to  be  read  and  sifted?  Of  innumerable  interviews  in 
Vienna  bakeries?  It  was  mighty  businesslike.  It  was  mighty 
thorough  and  systematic.  Suppose  he,  Kirk,  were  in  a  posi- 
tion where  he  had  to  raise  a  small  army  of  resolute  and 
determined  men — inured  to  hardship  and  danger — could  be 
see  any  way  of  improving  on  the  method  adopted  by  Mr. 
Smith?  No,  indeed,  he  would  copy  Mr.  Smith's  procedure 
to  the  last  dot.  Advertise,  sift  out,  boil  down  the  whole 
kettleful  to  a  residue  of  the  right  sort.  It  was  a  mighty 
good  way  to  go  about  it.  Yes,  a  mighty  good  way. 

Kirk  passed  the  rest  of  the  evening  in  the  free  reading 
room,  and  then  went  back  to  his  fourpenny  cot  in  the  Sal- 
vation Army  shelter.  The  next  day  at  the  stroke  of  ten 
he  was  on  the  steps  of  82  Tedworth  Street.  It  was  an 
ordinary  four-story  London  house,  undistinguishable  from 
its  neighbors  save  for  a  painted  sign  above  one  of  the  base- 
ment windows:  "  To  be  leased  unfurnished  for  a  term  of 
years;  apply  to  Jaffrey  &  Thatcher,  house  agents,  807 
Marylebone  Road  W."  It  was  a  most  respectable-looking 
house,  in  a  most  respectable-looking  street,  and  except  for 
a  tarnished  brass  knocker,  and  windows  heavily  glazed  with 
dust,  there  was  nothing  to  suggest  that  it  was  not  a  typical 
roof-tree  of  Britain's  best — the  house  of  a  well-to-do  pro- 
fessional man  or  city  merchant.  The  blinds  were  all  drawn 
down  as  though  the  household  were  still  asleep,  and  in  the 
area  there  was  none  of  the  usual  morning  bustle  of  clatter- 
ing servants  and  tradesmen's  boys.  A  general  lifelessness 
pervaded  the  headquarters  of  Kirk's  unknown  employers,  and 
his  four  knocks,  as  he  struck  them  slowly  and  deliberately, 
seemed  to  reecho  through  an  empty  house. 

The  door,  almost  to  his  surprise,  was  promptly  opened 
to  him  by  a  maid.  She  was  a  very  pretty  woman  in  the 

26 


THE   ADVENTURER 

usual  cap  and  print  dress — a  startlingly  pretty  woman — 
and  Kirk  could  hardly  keep  his  eyes  off  her  as  he  told 
her  he  wanted  to  see  Mr.  Smith.  Her  voice  was  as  pretty 
as  herself,  with  a  faraway  suspicion  of  a  lisp  in  it,  and 
Kirk  was  not  at  all  offended  at  being  asked  to  repeat 
his  question.  He  did  so  quickly,  still  looking  at  her  in 
admiration. 

"  You  are  to  come  in  and  wait,"  she  said.  "  Mr.  Smith 
is  busy  at  present,  but  he  will  be  pleased  to  see  you  in  a 
few  minutes." 

Kirk  followed  her  into  a  bare  hall.  There  was  no  car- 
pet on  the  floor,  no  furniture,  not  a  sign  of  habitation. 
Above  them  an  uncarpeted  stairway  lost  itself  in  gloom. 
Had  it  not  been  for  a  jet  of  gas,  burning  at  the  end  of  the 
passage,  he  would  have  found  himself  in  utter  darkness.  It 
was  a  ghostly  business  to  trail  after  the  housemaid,  and 
guide  himself  by  the  wall  as  she  led  the  way  upstairs — a 
dim  figure,  dimly  seen,  outstripping  him  with  her  light  feet. 
One  flight — two  flights — and  there  she  was,  panting  a  little, 
as  she  opened  the  door  of  a  back  room.  It,  too,  was  lighted 
artificially,  and  was  as  starkly  bare  as  the  rest  of  the  house. 
Here  Kirk  was  left,  assured  again  that  he  would  not  be  long 
kept  waiting. 

Kirk,  greatly  wondering,  went  to  the  window  and 
peeped  out  at  the  side  of  the  blind.  Below  him  was  a  dingy 
back  garden,  walled  in  with  brick  and  abutting  on  an  alley. 
Corresponding  back  gardens,  identical  in  size,  met  his  eye 
in  a  series  up  and  down  the  block.  He  turned  away  from 
the  depressing  sight,  attracted  by  the  sound  of  voices  above 
him.  A  faint  murmur  reached  him,  and  once  the  sudden 
scraping  of  a  chair.  Though  he  could  make  out  no  words, 
the  conversation  sounded  smoothly  on  his  ears — unexcited, 
matter  of  fact,  almost  droning.  He  seated  himself  tailor- 
3  2 


THE   ADVENTURER 

fashion  on  the  floor,  and  put  his  unlit  pipe  to  his  mouth. 
He  did  not  dare  to  smoke,  but  the  familiar  action  soothed 
him,  and  he  found  satisfaction  in  breathing  in  air.  He 
was  not  exactly  uneasy,  but  the  circumstances  were  so  strange 
and  the  veil  of  mystery  so  profound,  that  his  heart  beat  a 
little  thickly,  and  his  nerves  twitched  with  impatience  and 
suspense. 

After  a  while — a  long  while  it  seemed  to  Kirk — the 
door  opened,  and  the  pretty  housemaid  signaled  him  to  come 
out. 

'(  They  are  ready  for  you  now,"  she  said. 

Kirk  in  silence  followed  her  up  another  flight,  and  per- 
mitted himself  to  be  ushered  into  the  room  in  front.  The 
gas  was  brightly  burning.  At  a  common  deal  table,  stacked 
with  papers,  and  with  here  and  there  some  medical  instru- 
ments, sat  a  small,  dark,  youngish  man,  scribbling  on  a  pad. 
He  was  rather  smartly  dressed  in  a  frock  coat,  creased 
trousers,  light-colored  waistcoat,  and  a  large  Ascot  tie  pinned 
with  a  diamond  horseshoe.  At  his  side,  tilting  backward,  was 
the  bulky,  friendly  form  of  Mr.  Smith,  with  a  cigar  in  the 
corner  of  his  mouth,  and  the  same  quizzical,  good-natured  ex- 
pression that  Kirk  remembered  so  well.  In  a  corner  of  the 
floor  lay  a  silk  hat,  a  soft  felt  hat,  a  silver-handled  bamboo 
cane,  and  a  small  leather  case,  half  opened. 

Mr.  Smith,  without  rising,  greeted  Kirk  with  a  cheer- 
ful, offhand,  "  My  dear  man — glad  to  see  you !  " — and  in- 
dicated the  only  other  chair  in  the  room.  Kirk  smiled  and 
took  it,  while  the  dark  young  man  for  the  first  time  raised 
his  eyes. 

"  Dr.  Jones,"  said  Mr.  Smith  expansively,  by  way  of 
introduction.  "  Charming  fellow — pride  of  the  medical  pro- 
fession— can  find  more  things  the  matter  with  a  well  man 
than  ou  could  in  a  whole  hospital!  " 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  Kindly  divest  yourself  of  your  coat,  waistcoat,  and 
shirt,"  said  Dr.  Jones  succinctly. 

Kirk,  very  much  embarrassed,  proceeded  to  obey.  Mr. 
Smith  blew  smoke  rings,  and  smiled  ambiguously  at  the  ceil- 
ing. The  doctor  filled  up  the  interval  by  resuming  his 
scribbling. 

The  examination  didn't  take  long,  but  it  was  pretty 
brisk  while  it  lasted.  Kirk  was  thumped,  prodded,  stetho- 
scoped, and  generally  inquired  into.  The  doctor,  in  a  color- 
less, professional  tone,  asked  those  unblushing  questions  that 
in  anyone  else  would  be  resented  with  a  blow.  Asked  them 
with  an  air  of  quiet  incredulity,  as  though  lies  were  his 
daily  portion  —  verifying  Kirk's  answers  by  unexpected 
pinches  and  taps.  Mr.  Smith's  pronounced  indifference  was 
a  great  consolation  to  Kirk.  Mr.  Smith  did  not  seem  to 
care  a  doit,  and  yawned  throughout  the  proceedings  with 
undisguised  boredom.  Tilted  back  in  his  chair,  and  dream- 
ily eyeing  the  ceiling  through  clouds  of  tobacco  smoke,  he 
settled  himself  like  a  man  at  a  railway  station  condemned 
to  wait  for  his  train. 

At  last  his  train  arrived.  Dr.  Jones  begged  Kirk  put 
on  his  clothes  again,  and  turning  to  Mr.  Smith,  remarked: 
"  Strong  as  a  horse — of  superior  intelligence — nervous  and 
high  strung,  but  with  the  good  qualities  that  belong  to  this 
class  of  subject.  You  will  probably  find  him  one  of  your 
best  men.  I  pass  him  with  pleasure!  " 

These  unexpected  compliments  made  Kirk  glow  with 
satisfaction.  The  little  dark  doctor  had  given  no  indication 
that  his  judgment  would  be  so  favorable.  His  praise,  as 
dispassionate  as  that  of  a  judge  at  a  poultry  show,  had  the 
calm  sincerity  of  an  expert  to  whom  the  fowl  itself  was  of 
supreme  unimportance.  Mr.  Smith  awoke  to  interest,  set- 
tled his  chair  on  four  legs,  removed  the  cigar  from  his  mouth, 

29 


THE   ADVENTURER 

and  bluffly  took  up  the  task  now  resigned  to  him  by  Dr. 
Jones. 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  a  thing  like  this  before?  "  he  asked, 
as  he  passed  Kirk  what  seemed  to  be  a  bank  note. 

Kirk  took  it,  and  examined  it  attentively.  He  had  to  live 
up  to  his  "  superior  intelligence,"  and  was  prepared  for  some 
kind  of  trap.  But  to  all  intents  and  purposes  the  bill  was 
one  for  one  hundred  pounds — a  crisp,  new  Bank  of  England 
note — that  rustled  most  agreeably  as  he  felt  and  twisted  it 
between  his  finger  and  thumb.  If  it  were  a  forgery  he  might 
well  be  forgiven  for  thinking  it  genuine. 

"  A  hundred  pounds,"  added  Mr.  Smith.  "  Put  it  in 
your  pocket,  my  dear  man.  It  is  yours !  " 

"  But  what  for  ?  "  demanded  Kirk,  very  much  mystified. 
"  What  am  I  to  do  with  it?  " 

"  Anything  you  please,"  replied  Mr.  Smith.  "  My  dear 
man,  you  have  successfully  passed  two  stages  of  our  sifting 
process.  This  note  is  number  three!  " 

"  But  am  I  not  to  be  told  yet?  " 

"Told?    Told  what?" 

"  The  meaning  of  the  whole  affair  ?  What  it  is  you  want 
of  me,  Mr.  Smith?" 

Mr.  Smith  burst  out  laughing.  Even  the  doctor  appeared 
to  enjoy  the  sight  of  Kirk's  disturbed  and  surprised  counte- 
nance. 

"  My  dear  man,"  began  Mr.  Smith,  controlling  himself 
with  difficulty,  "  let  me  explain  a  little  further.  That  note 
is  yours — to  do  exactly  as  you  like  with.  Go  away.  Spend 
it  on  drink,  or  women,  or  ginger  beer — or  salt  it  down  in 
the  Post  Office  Savings  Bank.  Only,  if  on  Monday  after- 
noon you  cannot  bring  it  back  here  intact — intact,  mind  you 
— the  people  I  represent  have  no  use  for  your  services.  It 
is  the  final  test  of  your  character  and  self-control,  and  you 

30 


THE   ADVENTURER 

may  find  it  the  hardest  one  of  all.  No  question  of  honor  is 
involved,  nor  honesty,  nor  anything  of  that  sort.  We  make 
you  a  present  of  that  hundred  pounds.  Only,  as  I  said  be- 
fore, if  you  don't  bring  it  back  to  us  on  Monday  afternoon 
we  shall  decide  that  you're  not  the  man  for  us.  And  when 
I  say  a  hundred  pounds,  I  mean  a  hundred  pounds,  and  not 
a  penny  less.  Don't  bring  us  any  sad  tale  of  how  you  were 
unavoidably  compelled  to  eat  up  eleven  shillings  of  it — or 
ninepence  of  it — or,  by  Jupiter,  threepence  halfpenny  of  it. 
We  want  the  whole  note  or  nothing.  Got  the  idea?  " 

"  I  think  I  have,"  said  Kirk  in  a  maze. 

"  You  may  find,"  continued  Mr.  Smith,  "  that  weighed 
against  an  unknown  enterprise,  of  an  admittedly  hazardous 
character,  with  risks  and  hardships  swollen  by  imagination — 
that  a  hundred  pounds  in  the  hand  is  worth  a  lot  of  birds 
in  the  bush !  " 

"  Let's  get  on  to  that,"  said  Kirk.  "  Not  that  I'm  at- 
tempting to  force  your  confidence,  Mr.  Smith,  or  learn  what 
I  can  plainly  see  you  will  not  tell  me.  But  there  are  two 
questions  I  consider  I  have  a  right  to  put.  First,  Is  there 
anything  criminal  in  this  enterprise?  " 

Mr.  Smith  brought  his  hand  down  on  his  fat  leg  with  a 
resounding  smack.  "  Not  by  a  jugful !  " 

"  Question  number  two,"  went  on  Kirk.  "  What  is  there 
in  it  for  me?  " 

Mr.  Smith  paused  impressively  before  replying. 

"  Possibly  nothing,"  he  responded  at  last.  "  Possibly 
nothing  at  all." 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Kirk. 

Mr.  Smith  raised  his  hand  as  though  to  stop  him. 

"  Possibly — even  probably — a  fair-sized  fortune." 

"  A  fair-sized  fortune  ?  What  do  you  call  a  fair-sized 
fortune?" 

31 


THE   ADVENTURER 

Mr.  Smith's  voice  grew  suddenly  serious. 

"  Well,  say  from  ten  to  one  hundred  thousand  pounds!  " 

Kirk  stuffed  the  note  in  his  trousers  pocket.  The  action 
spoke  volumes.  Even  as  he  did  so  the  dazzling  housemaid 
tapped  at  the  door,  and  informed  Mr.  Smith  that  Joseph  Gill 
was  below  waiting  to  see  him. 

"  Mr.  Smith,"  said  Kirk,  breathless  with  excitement,  "  if 
I'm  not  here  Monday  it  will  be  because  I'm  dead.  If  you 
have  nothing  else  to  ask  of  me,  I  will  say  good  morning!  " 

Mr.  Smith  gave  him  his  hand.  The  doctor  looked  up 
from  his  pad  and  nodded.  A  minute  later  the  front  door 
closed  on  Kirk,  and  he  found  himself  in  Tedworth  Street  in 
a  tumult  of  the  most  indescribable  emotions.  His  hand 
closed  tightly  on  the  hundred-pound  note,  and  he  walked 
rapidly  away. 


CHAPTER   IV 

E  have  said  that  Kirk's  hand  closed  on  the 
hundred-pound  note.  But  touching  that 
note  also,  and  jostling  beside  it  was  the  sum 
of  one  shilling  and  tenpence  halfpenny — the 
most  of  it  in  coppers.  One  shilling  and  ten- 
pence  halfpenny  to  carry  him  through  what  remained  of 
Friday,  all  of  Saturday  and  Sunday,  and  at  least  a  break- 
fast for  Monday  morning.  Any  idea  of  a  bed  he  had  to 
put  away  from  him.  Even  for  food  it  was  going  to  be  a 
ticklish  operation  to  spread  a  shilling  and  tenpence  half- 
penny over — how  many  meals?  At  the  standard  number — 
three  a  day — there  were  ten  to  be  provided  for.  Ten,  with 
a  lunch  on  Monday.  Nine,  with  no  lunch  on  Monday. 
Well,  say  ten!  One  shilling  and  tenpence  halfpenny  in 
American  money  amounted  to  about  forty-five  cents,  or  a 
shade  over  four  cents  a  meal ! 

At  this  rate  it  was  possible  to  keep  body  and  soul  to- 
gether. Not  exactly  lapped  in  luxury,  perhaps,  but  still 
together.  Though  it  was  early  in  November  the  weather 
had  not  turned  very  cold,  and  to  a  hardy  fellow  like  Kirk 
the  prospect  of  a  few  nights  out  of  doors  was  less  dreadful 
than  you  would  imagine.  The  safety  of  the  hundred  pounds 
was  a  much  more  serious  consideration.  What  on  earth  was 
he  to  do  with  it?  Where  was  he  to  hide  it?  Horror  of 
horrors,  suppose  some  of  his  night-hawk  companions  were 
to  hold  him  up  and  rob  him !  That  was  the  worst  of  tuck- 
ing into  a  packing  case,  or  prowling  up  some  dark,  riverside 

33 


THE   ADVENTURER 

alley  where  barrels  and  lumber  were  apt  to  be  found.  Yet 
he  couldn't  well  entrust  it  to  anybody  to  keep  for  him. 
He  thought  of  the  grim  young  lady  in  the  free  reading  room, 
and  his  heart  sank.  What  of  a  police  station  ?  They'd  prob- 
ably think  him  a  thief  and  lock  him  up.  It  wasn't  a  story 
that  would  be  readily  believed.  A  dirty,  starving  scarecrow 
with  a  hundred-pound  note!  No,  there  was  no  help  here. 

He  remembered  St.  Stephen's  church.  It  was  a  queer 
old  place,  with  extraordinarily  high,  old-fashioned  pews. 
When  you  sat  down  in  one  of  them  you  as  much  disap- 
peared from  view  as  though  you  had  entered  an  unroofed 
shed.  It  would  be  an  easy  matter  to  go  in  at  some  evening 
service,  and  then  crouch  down  and  hide  while  the  others  were 
going  out.  "  Safe  as  a  church!  "  The  words  had  a  new  sig- 
nificance for  him  now.  But  was  there  any  evening  service 
— on  week  nights?  Well,  why  not  find  out?  Kirk  had  an 
indistinct  recollection  of  a  notice  board  with  something  on 
it  about  daily  matins  and  evensong.  He  had  wondered  at 
the  time  what  these  unfamiliar  words  meant.  Great  Scott, 
he'd  go  and  find  out. 

Later  he  congratulated  himself  on  having  done  so. 
There  was  a  service  every  evening  at  nine — "  praise  and 
prayer  "  it  said  on  the  board,  which  likewise  offered  him 
the  address  of  the  sexton  in  gilt  letters  even  bigger.  Kirk 
wandered  into  the  graveyard,  and  finding  it  deserted,  set 
himself  to  a  task  that  had  been  on  his  mind  for  some  little 
time — namely,  as  a  precaution,  to  sew  the  one-hundred- 
pound  note  into  the  lining  of  his  waistcoat.  All  he  had  to 
do  it  with  was  some  string  and  his  old  knife,  but  they  both 
served  well  enough  to  effect  his  purpose — though  it  was  a 
clumsy  job  and  ill  disguised.  Still,  the  note  was  now  far 
safer  than  it  had  been  in  his  pocket,  and  besides,  no  one  was 
likely  to  suspect  that  such  a  poor,  sloshy-footed  tramp  pos- 

34 


THE   ADVENTURER 

scssed  anything  more  than  the  shillings  and  the  coppers  that 
Kirk  was  quite  willing  to  risk. 

The  rest  of  the  day  passed  with  grinding  monotony. 
Dusk  brought  supper.  Then  more  monotony,  more  aimless 
attempts  to  kill  time,  more  futile  walks  and  loiterings.  To 
a  vigorous,  energetic  man  there  is  no  work  so  hard  as  idle- 
ness. Not  the  idleness  of  ease,  of  books,  of  pleasant  rooms, 
with  distractions  for  every  minute — but  the  hopeless,  soul- 
depressing  idleness  of  the  streets.  Kirk  was  thankful  when 
at  last  he  heard  the  church  bell  tolling,  and  could  assure 
himself  of  his  night's  rest.  He  slunk  into  St.  Stephen's, 
hoping  to  lose  himself  in  the  crowd,  and  discreetly  sink  out 
of  sight  in  one  of  the  box  pews. 

But  there  was  no  crowd.  The  dim,  cold  church  was 
empty.  The  ghostly  pews  showed  no  heads  above  their 
paneled  sides.  Kirk  hurriedly  popped  into  one  of  them,  and 
doubled  himself  up  out  of  sight.  The  bell  tolled  and  tolled. 
Three  pounds  ten!  Three  pounds  ten,  three  pounds  ten! 
Minutes  passed.  The  bells  ceased,  and  then  the  invading 
steps  of  another  wayfarer  were  heard.  Here  at  last  was 
the  congregation.  A  false  hope,  alas !  The  steps  were  those 
of  the  clergyman,  and  Kirk  heard  the  creak  of  ancient  boards 
as  he  mounted  into  the  pulpit.  The  pulpit  was  very  high, 
and  placed  almost  in  the  center  of  the  church.  The  clergy- 
man, to  make  matters  worse,  was  unusually  tall.  He  took 
a  most  unsportsmanlike  advantage  of  Kirk  by  rising  on  his 
toes  and  peering  down.  Kirk  held  his  breath  with  appre- 
hension, wondering  if  he  had  been  detected.  It  almost  seemed 
as  though  he  had  escaped.  The  clergyman  cleared  his  throat, 
settled  back  on  his  feet,  and  in  a  high-pitched  quavering 
voice  began: 

"  Dearly  beloved  brr — brother — the  Scripture  moveth  us 
in  sundry  places  to !  " 

35 


THE   ADVENTURER 

There  was  no  good  trying  to  make  a  hotel  of  that  church. 
The  clergyman  had  Kirk  under  constant  supervision,  and  at 
the  end  of  the  service  shamelessly  waited  for  him  to  walk 
out.  This  Kirk  did,  like  a  dog  with  its  tail  between  its  legs. 
Very  little  the  better,  I'm  afraid,  for  his  share  of  that  even- 
song. It  was  nearly  a  quarter  of  ten  as  he  found  himself 
once  more  treading  the  streets,  and  pitifully  undecided  as 
to  where  he  should  betake  himself.  He  determined  on  the 
Salvation  shelter.  He  liked  the  Salvationists.  They  could 
be  awfully  good  to  a  man  that  was  down  on  his  luck. ,  They 
would  do  something  for  him,  he  knew  that.  They  would 
not  turn  him  away. 

But  it  was  a  night  of  misfortunes.  There  was  an  enor- 
mous crowd  in  the  street.  Policemen  were  everywhere.  The 
place  was  all  puddled  up  with  water,  and  Kirk  found  his 
progress  peremptorily  barred. 

"  Stand  back !     Keep  'orf !     No  passageway  'ere !  " 

"  What  was  the  matter?  " 

"Fire!" 

A  bystander  volunteered  the  information  that  a  drunken 
man  had  set  his  cot  in  flames,  and  that  the  Salvation  barracks 
had  gone  up  in  smoke. 

"  A  rare  sight,"  said  the  man.  tf  You  ought  to  have  seen 
them  ajumping  from  the  windows!  Wy,  with  my  own 
heyes  I  saw  two  of  them " 

Kirk  turned  back,  sick  at  heart.  Where  was  he  to  go? 
There  were  doubtless  other  Army  refuges,  but  how  was  he 
to  find  them?  No  one  could  help  him,  though  he  asked  re- 
peatedly, his  voice  in  spite  of  himself  sinking  to  the  key  of 
mendicancy  that  warned  all  from  him.  The  ever-present 
thought  of  the  hundred  pounds  made  him  timorous  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life.  He  dreaded  more  than  ever  those  cut- 
throat purlieus  on  the  waterside,  where  shelter  was  most 

36 


THE   ADVENTURER 

likely  to  be  obtained.  There  seemed  nothing  for  it  but  the 
Embankment — that  wide,  stately  boulevard  that  bordered  the 
Thames,  stuck  out  at  intervals  with  green  benches  and 
policemen.  He  had  often  seen  people  asleep  on  the  benches. 
He  had  read  allusions  in  the  newspapers  to  the  number  of 
people  sleeping  on  them.  Had  familiarized  himself  with  the 
idea  of  sleeping  on  one  of  them  if  actually  driven  to  it.  It 
was  well  policed — that  was  the  great  thing.  He  knew  it 
was  well  policed.  Rows  of  police! 

So  he  made  his  way  to  the  Embankment  through  a  net- 
work of  small,  dark,  and  confusing  streets.  The  next  trouble 
was  to  find  a  bench  that  was  empty.  The  raw,  damp  weather 
had  not  thinned  the  ranks  of  the  disinherited.  Bench  after 
bench  was  occupied,  though  not  always  by  recumbent  figures, 
however.  On  one  a  drunken  woman,  gabbling  incoherently 
to  herself.  On  another  a  pair  of  such  wicked-looking  hooli- 
gans taking  alternative  puffs  of  the  same  cigarette,  that  Kirk 
shivered  for  his  hundred  pounds  till  he  was  well  passed 
them.  It  was  strange  what  a  coward  this  money  made  him. 
He  distrusted  everybody  but  the  stalwart  men  in  blue,  who 
seemed  to  him  fewer  and  much  farther  between  than  he 
had  anticipated.  At  last  he  saw  an  empty  bench,  and  hur- 
ried to  seize  it  before  it  might  be  snapped  up  by  anyone  else. 
He  was  dog-tired  and  it  was  pleasant  to  stretch  himself  out 
at  length  after  that  long,  long  day.  But  he  decided  not  to 
go  to  sleep.  He  did  not  dare  to  go  asleep.  Fool  that  he'd 
been  not  to  get  the  address  of  another  Army  shelter.  It 
was  all  the  fault  of  that  confounded  church.  Kirk  reviled  it 
heartily,  and  then  had  to  laugh.  "  Dear  Beloved  Brother!  " 
What  a  joke  it  would  be  in  days  to  come — happier  days — 
"  from  ten  to  a  hundred  thousand  pounds,"  said  Mr.  Smith. 
A  hundred  thousand  pounds  was  half  a  million  dollars! 
The  bench  seemed  suddenly  less  hard — the  whole  situation 

37 


THE  ADVENTURER 

less  miserable.  Five  hundred  thousand  dollars! — was  it  not 
worth  a  little  discomfort! 

Then  he  dozed  off,  awaking  after  an  unknown  interval 
to  a  penetrating  realization  of  cold  and  achiness.  He  was 
disgusted  at  the  treachery  of  his  body,  which  had  faithfully 
promised  not  to  go  to  sleep.  It  had  lied  to  him  shamefully. 
Oh,  dear,  how  sleepy  he  was!  Perhaps  if  he  sat  up  he  could 
better  resist  these  overwhelming  waves  of  slumber.  Accord- 
ingly, he  sat  up  and  blinked  at  the  lights  across  the  river. 
Blinked  till  no  exertion  of  will  power  seemed  able  to  keep 
them  open.  He  dozed  off  again,  dreaming  in  the  most  posi- 
tive manner  that  he  was  awake — dreaming  of  policemen, 
of  Mr.  Smith,  of  lighting  his  pipe  with  a  hundred-pound 
note. 

There  was  a  terrible  weight  on  his  chest.  Bound  and 
gagged  he  was  lying  under  a  ten-ton  triphammer  that  was 
slowly  squeezing  him  to  death,  struggle  as  he  might.  He 
opened  his  eyes,  and  in  an  instant  returned  to  consciousness. 
A  pair  of  hands  were  throttling  his  life  out,  while  another 
pair  were  pinioning  his  legs.  Still  another  hand  was  roving 
through  his  trousers  pockets.  Kirk  was  a  powerful  man — 
quick,  cunning,  and  resourceful  in  the  face  of  danger.  He 
tore  away  the  fellow  from  his  throat,  sprang  over  sideways, 
and  landing  a  kick  into  something  soft  and  human,  managed 
to  scramble  to  his  feet.  There  ensued  a  random,  indiscrimi- 
nate punching.  Kirk,  yelling  murder  at  the  top  of  his  lungs, 
staggered  backward,  reeling  from  a  blow  in  the  mouth. 
But  even  as  he  did  so  he  hit  out  right  and  left,  smashing 
one  of  his  assailants  headlong  to  the  pavement.  But  the  sec- 
ond one  pressed  him  hard,  and  from  behind  he  could  hear 
the  third,  breathing  violently  through  his  teeth,  and  awaiting 
a  chance  to  spring  on  him.  A  voice  cried  out:  "  Slug  him, 
Bill!  My  Gawd!  why  don't  you  slug  him?"  Kirk  fell 

38 


THE   ADVENTURER 

on  his  knees,  turned,  and  grabbed  the  fellow  behind  him  by 
the  legs.  They  both  went  over  with  a  crash,  twisting  and 
writhing  in  a  death  battle.  Kirk  had  a  momentary  peep  at 
the  stars — then  of  a  hobnailed  boot  descending.  A  skinny 
hand  was  gripping  his  throat  in  a  vice,  while  he  was  desper- 
ately hammering  his  elbow  into  what  he  hoped  were  human 
ribs.  The  hobnailed  boot  missed  him  by  an  inch,  thanks  to 
a  convulsive  effort  that  taxed  every  atom  of  his  strength. 
The  hobnailed  boot  rose  again,  aiming  another  vicious  stamp. 

"  Murder,  help,  murder!  " 

Peep,  peep,  peep! 

It  was  a  policeman's  whistle.  The  sound  was  taken  up 
and  repeated  from  several  quarters.  Elephantine  footsteps 
approached  running.  But  there  was  the  hobnailed  boot  still 
smashing  at  him.  Peep,  peep,  peep!  He  dodged  it  once. 
Dodged  it  twice.  Peep,  peep,  peep! 

Then  oblivion. 

He  awoke  in  a  sort  of  dormitory,  the  occupant  of  one 
of  a  long  row  of  cots.  He  was  extraordinarily  tired,  extraor- 
dinarily confused  and  dizzy.  His  eyes  rested  dully  on  the 
white-clad  figure  of  a  nurse.  She  came  over  to  him  instantly, 
and  her  kind,  good  face  was  comforting  just  to  look  at.  Her 
voice  was  low  and  pleasant,  and  her  hand,  as  she  laid  it  on  his 
throbbing  temple,  gave  him  a  childish  contentment. 

"You  are  better?"  she  asked. 

Kirk  smiled  and  nodded.  He  felt  for  his  head  and  was 
thunderstruck  to  find  that  he  no  longer  had  any  hair.  Ban- 
dages, but  no  hair!  What  the  deuce  had  become  of  his  hair? 
Why  bandages?  Then,  with  a  wave  of  recollection  the 
whole  affair  of  the  Embankment  recurred  to  him. 

"  Nurse,"  he  said  feebly,  "  am  I  much  hurt?  " 

She  cooed  over  him  in  clotted  cream  English  accents. 
39 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"And  the  hundred  pounds?  "  he  cried  out.  "  In  Heav- 
en's name,  where  is  my  hundred  pounds?  " 

"  You  mustn't  get  excited  ? "  she  said,  ignoring  his 
question. 

Then  another  thought  struck  him. 

"  What  day  is  it?  "  he  demanded. 

"Sunday!" 

He  sat  up  in  bed,  greatly  to  her  astonishment.  He  felt 
shaky  and  sick,  but  able,  nevertheless,  to  get  up  and  dress. 
He  had  to  get  up  and  dress. 

"  I'm  not  delirious,"  he  said.  "  I  had  a  hundred-pound 
note  sewed  up  in  the  lining  of  my  vest.  I  cannot  remain 
here  without  knowing  whether  it  is  safe!  " 

More  professional  coos  of  the  poor-dear-man-do-be-quiet 
order. 

But  the  poor,  dear  man  roared  for  his  clothes,  and  raised 
such  an  outcry  and  hullabaloo  that  a  doctor  came  running 
in  from  the  next  ward.  He  exchanged  a  few  words  with 
Kirk,  tried  ineffectually  to  boss  him  into  submission,  and 
then  very  grudgingly  gave  way. 

"  You're  a  foolhardy  fellow,"  he  said.  "  You've  just 
shaved  concussion  of  the  brain.  You'll  come  back  here  on 
a  stretcher!  " 

"  Bring  me  my  clothes!  "  roared  Kirk.  "  I  haven't  con- 
cussion of  the  brain.  I  want  my  clothes!  " 

A  dresser  arrived  on  the  scene.  Also  some  convalescents 
with  brooms.  Also  another  nurse.  They  formed  a  little 
group  about  Kirk  while  he  still  ferociously  insisted  on  his 
clothes. 

"  Oh,  well,  then,  get  him  his  clothes,"  said  the  doctor. 

There  was  an  interminable  delay  while  they  were  being 
brought.  Kirk  devoured  some  calves'-foot  jelly,  and  fiercely 
repeated  the  tale  of  the  hundred-pound  note  sewed  in  the 

.40 


THE   ADVENTURER 

lining  of  his  vest.  It  was  met  by  a  row  of  incredulous  faces. 
So  incredulous,  indeed,  that  for  a  moment  he  wondered 
whether  the  whole  affair  were  not  a  dream — Mr.  Smith,  the 
house  in  Tedworth  Street,  the  Desperate  Enterprise — every- 
thing. Then  a  man  appeared  with  the  clothes.  But  why 
had  they  changed  from  blue  to  a  dingy  mustard?  Kirk 
gazed  at  them  in  bewilderment. 

"  They  are  not  mine  at  all !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Great 
Scott,  those  are  not  my  clothes!  " 

"  Yes,  they  are,"  said  the  man.  "  You  can  see  the  num- 
ber for  yourself — 6696 — just  as  they  were  stripped  off  you 
and  ticketed.  I  ought  to  know,  for  I  did  it  myself !  " 

The  whole  party  regarded  Kirk  as  though  he  were  de- 
lirious. He  heard  something  in  an  undertone  about  a 
"  strait-jacket." 

"  Give  me  that  coat,"  he  cried  defiantly.  "  I'll  soon  show 
you  whether  it's  mine  or  not.  There,  can't  you  see  it's  made 
for  a  man  nine  sizes  smaller  than  I  am !  Here,  put  it  on." 

With  the  air  of  humoring  a  very  sick  patient,  the  doctor 
held  out  the  coat  for  Kirk  to  slip  his  arms  into.  He  man- 
aged to  get  them  in,  but  that  was  the  most  that  could  be 
done.  Everybody  laughed.  It  might  have  been  a  boy's, 
while  Kirk  was  a  broad-shouldered,  deep-chested  man.  The 
absurdity  of  its  being  Kirk's  coat  was  patent. 

"  Johnson,  there's  some  mistake  here,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  Why,  I  took  it  off  him  myself,  sir,"  cried  Johnson. 
"  Look  at  the  ticket,  sir !  Number  6696.  The  coat's  all 
right,  sir;  it's  the  man  what's  changed." 

Then  one  of  the  convalescents  bore  in. 

"  You've  got  the  figures  upside  down,"  he  said.  "  You've 
gone  and  give  this  poor  fellow's  duds  to  9699 !  " 

Johnson  faltered,  and  muttered  something  under  his 
breath. 

41 


THE   ADVENTURER 

The  doctor  flushed  angrily. 

"  Johnson,  I'm  going  to  have  this  thing  sifted  to  the 
bottom,"  he  cried.  "  And  sifted  here  and  now!  " 

Johnson  threw  up  the  sponge. 

"  It  must  have  been  that  hemorrhage  case  yesterday,"  he 
quavered.  "  He  did  make  a  most  awful  hubbub,  I  remem- 
ber, and  went  away  swearing  like  the  old  Nick.  But  it  was 
his  ticket,  and  I  made  him  take  them." 

"'But  do  you  know  his  name?  Do  you  know  where  he 
went  to?  Have  you  got  his  address?  " 

Kirk  bellowed  these  questions  like  a  maniac.  His  eyes 
were  flashing,  and  his  fists  closing  convulsively  on  the 
coverlet. 

"  You'll  find  all  that  in  the  book,"  said  Johnson,  with 
lamblike  meekness.  "  Leastways  it  orter  be  in  the  book. 
But  the  book  not  being  in  my  department,"  he  went  on,  "  I 
really  cannot  positively,  definitely  say  for  certain." 

"  Bring  the  book  directly,"  shouted  the  doctor.  "  If  this 
matter  is  not  cleared  up  instanter,  I'll  have  you  dismissed!  " 

Johnson  slowly  turned,  and  in  a  most  woebegone  manner 
walked  down  the  ward  toward  the  door. 

"  Don't  get  excited,  dear,"  said  the  nurse  to  Kirk.  "  If 
you  allow  yourself  to  get  excited  you'll  become  delirious 
again,  and  have  to  have  ice  put  on  your  poor  head !  Won't 
he.  doctor?  " 


CHAPTER   V 

BOUT  three  o'clock  on  that  same  Sunday 
afternoon,  Kirk — very  pale  and  determined 
— might  have  been  seen  emerging  from  the 
hospital  in  a  suit  of  Mr.  Johnson's  own. 
Too  short  in  the  arms,  far  too  ample  in  the 
waist,  baggy  and  threadbare — these  habiliments  of  the  un- 
fortunate Johnson  hung  upon  Kirk  with  a  scarecrow  effect 
that  caused  the  passers-by  to  turn  and  stare.  In  one  of  Mr. 
Johnson's  pockets  there  rattled  one  shilling  and  eightpence 
(the  halfpenny  having  unaccountably  disappeared)  and  in 
another  was  a  sheet  of  paper,  inscribed  in  pencil :  "  Betts, 
Edmund  George.  Admitted  October  1 8th.  Advanced 
phthisis.  Hemorrhages.  Weight,  8  stone  6.  Occupation, 
picture-frame  maker.  Address,  17  Henrietta  Street,  Soho. 
Discharged  incurable  November  3d." 

Number  seventeen  was  a  small,  dark  shop  in  a  mean,  dark 
neighborhood.  The  window  held  an  easel,  on  which,  en- 
larged from  a  carte-de-visite ,  and  incased  in  a  gimcrack 
frame,  was  one  of  the  granite-faced  ancestors  of  the  poor. 
On  one  side  of  this  was  a  chromo  of  a  Swiss  lake;  on  the 
other  a  lady,  apparently  unclothed,  floating  limply  on  the 
bosom  of  an  ocean.  A  lion,  a  comic  motor  picture,  a  de- 
spairing female  clinging  to  a  cross,  a  pair  of  clamps,  and  a 
key  saw  completed  the  dreary  ensemble.  Within  the  shop 
was  Mr.  Betts  himself,  a  shambling,  dwarfish  creature,  with 
a  heavy  stoop,  who,  beside  a  glue  pot,  and  with  a  picture 
between  his  legs,  was  engaged  in  the  active  exercises  of  his 
4  43 


THE   ADVENTURER 

profession.     He  raised  his  eyes  as  Kirk  entered,  and  stared 
at  him  queerly. 

"Are  you  named  Betts?"  inquired  Kirk.  "Edmund 
George  Betts?" 

Mr.  Betts,  in  a  surly,  husky  tone,  admitted  that  he 
was.  "And  wot  of  it?"  he  demanded. 

"  You  were  discharged  yesterday  from  St.  Mark's  Hos- 
pital?" 

Mr.  Betts  looked  as  if  he  would  have  gladly  denied  it. 
His  dull,  wasted  face,  the  hue  of  dirty  plaster,  took  on  a 
most  forbidding  expression.  He  seemed  to  apprehend  what 
was  coming,  and  was  evidently  nerving  himself  for  a  hostile 
interview. 

"  I  don't  see  that  it  is  any  business  of  yours,"  he  said. 
"  Wot  is  it  to  you  if  I  was?  "  And  then  he  added,  apparently 
quite  at  random  and  very  belligerently:  "  I'm  a  hard-working 
man." 

"  See  here,  Betts,"  said  Kirk,  "  you  were  given  my 
clothes  by  mistake.  Where  are  they  ?  I  want  them  1  " 

Mr.  Betts  went  through  with  a  very  creditable  perform- 
ance of  astonishment.  Indignant  astonishment,  broken  by 
a  fit  of  coughing. 

"  I  don't  know  wot  you're  talking  about,"  he  replied  at 
last.  "  These  are  all  the  clothes  I've  got.  If  you  don't 
believe  they  are  mine,  just  walk  across  the  street  and  arsk 
the  tailor  who  made  them." 

There  was  a  battle  of  looks.  Betts's  effrontery  increased 
as  he  perceived  Kirk's  helplessness.  He  made  stage  play  over 
the  frame,  and  sandpapered  vigorously. 

"  I'm  going  to  stay  here  till  I  get  my  clothes,"  Kirk 
announced. 

"You're  crazy,"  said  Betts. 

"  I  tell  you,  I'm  going  to  have  my  clothes,"  said  Kirk. 
44 


THE  ADVENTURER 

"  There's  a  policeman  at  the  end  of  this  street,"  said 
Betts,  grinning  evilly.  "  You  and  he  ought  to  know  each 
other.  If  you  go  on  bothering  me,  I  fancy  you  soon 
will!" 

Betts  hammered  at  his  frame,  the  master  of  the  situation. 
Kirk,  dizzy  and  ill,  wondered  what  on  earth  he  was  to  do. 
The  creature's  defiance  enraged  him,  and  yet  he  seemed 
utterly  powerless.  After  all,  it  wasn't  the  clothes — it  was 
the  hundred-pound  note  he  wanted.  It  was  plainly  within 
his  power  to  force  the  restitution  of  his  clothes.  But  the 
restitution  of  the  note  was  a  very  different  matter. 

It  could  be  denied,  first  of  all,  that  he  had  ever  possessed 
such  a  note.  Secondly,  it  would  be  impossible  to  connect 
Betts  with  the  theft  of  it.  The  sly  consumptive  had  the 
whip  hand  of  him.  Was  ever  there  anything  so  infuriating! 
Kirk  gazed  blankly  at  the  glue  pot,  bubbling  over  a  gas 
burner,  and  tried  to  think.  Betts,  elaborately  unconcerned, 
measured  distances  with  his  thumb,  and  began  to  unscrew 
the  clamps. 

"  There  was  a  hundred-pound  note  sewed  in  that  vest," 
said  Kirk,  "  and  you've  got  it!  " 

"  Wot's  the  man  talking  about?"  inquired  Betts  con- 
fidentially of  a  bottle  of  bronze  solution.  "  First  it  was  his 
clothes,  and  now  it's  his  hundred-pound  note!  Next  it  will 
be  a  diamond  tarara  with  the  initials  V.  I. !  "  As  he  said 
this  he  gazed  meaningly  into  the  street,  and  again  address- 
ing the  air,  wondered  what  could  be  detaining  Mr.  Thomp- 
son, the  policeman. 

"  He  always  passes  about  this  time,"  he  observed.  "  I'm 
looking  for  him  every  minute  now.  Shall  call  him  in  to  see 
if  he  can't  do  anythink  for  a  hard-working  man,  pestered  by 
a  disorderly  person,  who  won't  go  away  when  he's  told !  " 

Goaded  beyond  endurance,  Kirk  snatched  up  the  pot  of 
45 


THE  ADVENTURER 

boiling  glue,  and  seizing  the  fellow's  collar  with  his  left 
hand  delivered  an  ultimatum. 

"  If  you  don't  make  a  clean  breast  of  it  I'm  going  to 
pour  this  all  over  your  head !  " 

Betts  squealed  and  toppled  backward,  with  Kirk  on 
top  of  him.  The  man  was  as  weak  as  a  child,  and  his 
attempt  to  cry  out  brought  on  a  fit  of  horrible  coughing. 
Kirk  pinned  him  to  the  floor,  and  threatened  him  with  the 
upraised  glue  pot.  A  few  drops,  spilled  in  the  struggle, 
trickled  down  the  sides  of  the  pot  and  fell  one  by  one  on 
Bett's  skinny  neck. 

"  My  money!  My  money!  "  thundered  Kirk,  tilting  the 
pot  till  his  own  hand  scorched.  "  Or  I  swear  to  heaven  I'll 
burn  your  face  off !  " 

The  framemaker,  coughing  and  strangling,  rolled  his 
eyes  in  terror.  He  ceased  his  ineffectual  struggles  lest  he 
might  himself  contribute  to  a  catastrophe,  gasping  out  some- 
thing that  sounded  like  a  surrender.  Kirk  assisted  him  to 
sit  up,  and  then  waited  sternly  for  the  paroxysm  to  pass. 
Betts  painfully  regained  his  breath,  and  wiped  his  mouth 
with  a  dirty  handkerchief. 

"  Now,  then,  where  are  my  clothes?  " 

"Burnt!" 

"'But  the  note,  what  did  you  do  with  the  note?  " 

Betts's  eyes  wandered  about  the  shop  like  a  hunted  rat's. 
At  last  they  settled  dismally  on  the  glue  pot.  It  was  a  sig- 
nal for  Kirk  to  again  raise  it  threateningly. 

"Oh,  my  Gawd!"  screamed  the  creature.  "Don't, 
don't,  don't !  " 

"Where's  my  money?"  reiterated  Kirk. 

"  How  was  I  to  know  who  it  belonged  to?  "  moaned  the 
framemaker.  "  I  told  him  they  weren't  my  clothes,  but  he 
forced  me  to  take  them.  They  hung  all  over  me,  and  I 

46 


THE   ADVENTURER 

had  to  turn  up  the  cuffs — yet  he  still  insisted  they  were 
mine.  At  first  I  didn't  believe  it  was  a  good  note  at 
all.  I  nearly  took  it  back  to  the  hospital.  But  the  tailor 
across  the  way  said  it  was  a  good  one,  and  that  as  I  was 
forced  to  take  the  clothes  the  note  was  lawfully  mine. 
He  said  he'd  cash  it  for  me  for  a  quid,  and  told  me  to 
go  out  and  spend  it  fast  before  anybody  could  come  down 
on  me !  " 

All  the  fight  had  gone  out  of  Betts.  He  was  whimpering 
and  pleading  like  a  child.  His  voice  scarcely  rose  above  a 
whisper.  He  seemed  to  regard  himself  as  a  victim  of  an 
immense  injustice.  The  note  had  been  none  of  his  own 
seeking;  it  had  been  thrust  upon  him  with  violence  and 
contumely,  and  here  now  was  Kirk  adding  insult  to  injury 
— with  melted  glue. 

Kirk  watched  him  as  he  rose  and  staggered  to  a  corner 
of  the  room,  where,  from  beneath  a  heap  of  rubbish  he  drew 
out  a  paper  bag. 

"  Here's  all  that's  left  of  it,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  know 
how  much  I've  spent — and  the  tailor  he  got  a  pound." 

Kirk  emptied  out  a  mass  of  notes,  gold,  and  silver,  and 
feverishly  set  himself  to  count  them.  Betts  looked  on  with 
an  air  of  nervous  detachment,  and  attempted  to  disarm  criti- 
cism by  retelling  the  whole  story.  It  buzzed  mournfully 
in  Kirk's  ears  as  he  stacked  sovereigns  in  fives,  ranged  the 
notes,  and  vaguely  forecasted  the  shortage.  His  face  grew 
so  ominous  that  Betts  felt  in  his  pockets,  and  cascaded  the 
contents  of  his  purse  into  a  heap.  With  this  addition  the 
whole  reached  ninety-one  pounds  eighteen  shillings  and  four- 
pence. 

Betts  had  to  account  for  a  little  more  than  eight  pounds ! 

Kirk  stuck  the  money  into  his  pocket  and  imperiously 
ordered  Betts  to  make  up  the  difference. 

47 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  Oh,  my  Gawd !  "  exclaimed  Betts  with  unaffected  sin- 
cerity. "  I  haven't  a  bob  in  the  world !  " 

"  Then  you'll  have  to  sell  something,"  said  Kirk,  grind- 
ing his  teeth.  "  You  owe  me  eight  pounds,  one,  and  eight- 
pence,  and  by  George,  I'm  going  to  have  it!  " 

"  You  can't  get  blood  out  of  a  stone,"  protested  Betts, 
shrinking  from  him  in  terror.  "  I've  been  five  weeks  in 
hospital — the  whole  stock  ain't  worth  over  twenty  pounds — 
you  can  see  that  for  yourself — and  the  most  of  it's  owed  for. 
Why,  I  haven't  even  a  bed  to  sleep  on.  All  up  the  spout, 
every  end  and  stick  of  it!  " 

"  You  must  have  got  something  for  that  eight 
pounds?  " 

Betts  produced  a  post-office  receipt  for  five  pounds. 

"  I  sent  this  to  my  wife  down  at  Wapping,"  he  said. 
"  She  and  the  two  kids  are  staying  with  their  mother,  who's 
a  lodging-house  keeper  in  a  poor  way.  A  quid  for  the  tailor 
makes  six.  The  rest  just  slipped  through  my  fingers — like 
money  will  when  you're  flush  of  it !  " 

Kirk  groaned  as  he  perceived  the  uselessness  of  attempt- 
ing to  regain  another  penny.  Mr.  Betts  snuffled  audibly,  and 
murmured  something  about  having  been  honest  brought  up, 
and  always  able  to  look  the  world  in  the  face. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  he  said  at  last.  "  I'll  write 
you  out  a  paper,  promising  to  make  up  the  balance  on  weekly 
installments  of  seven  and  sixpence!  " 

Kirk  brushed  the  suggestion  aside.  To-morrow  would 
be  Monday,  the  day  on  which  he  was  pledged  to  return  to 
82  Tedworth  Street  with  the  hundred-pound  note  intact. 
Weekly  installments  of  seven  and  sixpence  were  too  derisive 
to  be  entertained  for  an  instant.  He  had  a  fleeting  notion 
of  extracting  that  pound  from  the  rascally  tailor,  and  then 
as  quickly  resigned  it.  What  even  was  another  pound  ?  He 

48 


THE   ADVENTURER 

felt  dizzy  and  ill,  and  in  no  state  for  a  further  drain  on  his 
energies.  Somehow  or  other  he  had  to  raise  eight  pounds  by 
the  next  afternoon,  or  forego  any  share  in  Mr.  Smith's  des- 
perate enterprise.  He  had  to  think,  and  think  hard,  and 
must  needs  pull  himself  together.  Nothing  of  the  kind  was 
possible  in  that  stuffy,  little  workshop,  with  its  penetrating 
smell  of  glue,  squalor,  and  disease.  An  uncontrollable  dis- 
gust overwhelmed  him.  Without  another  word  he  passed 
out  into  the  street,  and  hastened  away,  asking  himself  miser- 
ably what  on  earth  he  was  to  do. 

He  was  tempted  to  seek  out  Mr.  Smith  and  throw  him- 
self on  his  mercy.  Mr.  Smith  surely  could  not  blame  him 
for  such  a  terrible  train  of  accidents.  But  then  Mr.  Smith 
mightn't  believe  him.  Besides,  too,  the  latter's  warning  had 
been  so  explicit.  Kirk  remembered  the  upraised  finger,  and 
the  serious,  almost  cynical  voice.  Mr.  Smith  had  been  more 
than  prepared  for  his  backsliding.  With  all  his  appearance 
of  easy  good  nature,  there  was  a  streak  of  iron  in  that  man. 
Kirk  could  almost  hear  the  interview  in  imagination;  the 
urbanity,  the  sympathy — and  the  door !  No,  he  did  not  dare 
make  the  attempt.  If  it  was  to  be  made  at  all  it  must  be 
as  the  last  resort.  There  were  still  eighteen  hours  before  him 
in  which  to  raise  the  deficit.  Surely  in  a  city  of  six  million 
inhabitants  it  was  possible  to  find  or  borrow  or  beg  eight 
pounds! 

He  followed  street  after  street  at  random.  Money, 
money,  money  everywhere  —  in  banks,  in  shuttered  shops, 
in  the  pockets  of  well-dressed  people.  Money  strolling! 
Money  driving  rapidly  past  in  hansom  cabs.  Money  non- 
chalantly leaving  clubs  or  standing  undecidedly  on  the  steps 
of  magnificent  hotels.  Eight  pounds!  Eight  pounds!  Oh, 
the  mockery  of  this  affluence  on  every  side — this  ocean  in 
which  he  had  not  a  drop  to  drink!  He  was  glad  to  strike 

49 


THE   ADVENTURER 

across  meaner  neighborhoods  where  there  was  less  to  agonize 
him.  He  was  hardly  able  to  drag  his  feet  along.  Never 
had  be  been  so  tired — so  utterly  exhausted. 

His  head  swam,  and  it  was  only  by  indomitable  resolu- 
tion that  he  could  put  temptation  by  him — the  temptation 
to  enter  the  first  likely  hotel;  eat,  bathe,  sleep,  and  ignobly 
surrender  to  his  physical  needs,  resigning  all  idea  of  getting 
the  eight  pounds,  resigning  all  hope  of  sharing  in  that  des- 
perate enterprise,  acquiescing  in  defeat,  and  accepting  it  as 
inevitable.  But  no,  no,  no,  he  would  not  give  in !  He  would 
rest  in  the  free  reading  room,  whip  up  his  jaded  faculties, 
and  somehow  or  other  find  a  way  out. 

For  an  hour  he  sat  apathetic  in  his  chair.  Dusk  fell, 
the  lights  were  lit,  and  still  he  was  not  one  whit  nearer  the 
eight  pounds.  Then,  in  the  queer,  unexpected  way  that  such 
things  happen,  he  began  to  get  a  glimmer  of  an  idea.  An 
idea  necessitating  a  three-week-old  number  of  the  Sporting 
and  Dramatic  Record.  He  found  it  with  difficulty,  and  rap- 
idly turning  over  the  pages,  at  length  laid  his  finger  on  what 
he  sought. 

It  was  an  interview  with  Homer  Kittredge,  the  literary 
lion  of  the  hour.  Homer  Kittredge,  that  astounding  young 
man  who  had  taken  London  by  storm  with  his  South  Afri- 
can stories.  Kirk,  also,  had  been  taken  by  storm,  and  cher- 
ished a  tremendous  admiration  for  the  great  author — so 
much  so,  indeed,  that  he  had  previously  read  the  interview 
with  avidity  and  remembered  it  well.  Here  it  was,  por- 
trait and  all — Kittredge's  lodgings,  Kittredge's  modesty, 
Kittredge's  breakfast,  Kittredge's  views  on  things  in  general. 
The  interview  was  flippant  and  silly,  but  all  the  same  it 
represented  Kittredge  in  a  delightful  light — broad,  tolerant, 
generous,  and  human.  Kittredge  had  been  induced  to  talk 
of  his  early  struggles,  of  his  bitter  fight  with  poverty,  of  his 

50 


THE   ADVENTURER 

walking  through  the  streets,  just  as  Kirk  had  done,  trying 
to  keep  his  hands  from  snatching  at  diamond  stickpins.  It 
was  humorously  expressed — it  was  laughable,  and  intended 
to  be  so — but  it  gave  Kirk  an  extraordinary  fellow-feeling 
with  the  novelist — a  friendship,  a  tenderness.  Here,  best  of 
all,  was  the  astounding  young  man's  address:  n  Rye  Row, 
Charing  Cross. 

Half  an  hour  later  Kirk  descended  from  a  hansom  and 
found  himself  in  a  dirty  little  side  street  off  one  of  the  great- 
est thoroughfares  of  London.  The  house  before  him  was  as 
dirty  and  unprepossessing  as  the  street  it  fronted  on.  Kirk 
remembered  that  Kittredge  was  busy  on  a  novel  dealing 
with  low  life  in  London,  and  this  explained  his  choice  of  a 
slum  to  live  in.  He  was  breathing  the  same  air  as  his 
characters,  and  could  gaze  down  on  their  heads  from  his 
second-story  window.  It  showed  what  a  thorough  fellow 
Kittredge  was,  and  proved  his  determination  to  get  down 
to  brass  tacks.  But  even  conceding  all  this  it  seemed  a 
strange  abode  for  a  man  who  had  the  whole  of  London  at 
his  feet,  and  the  general  aspect  of  grime  and  poverty  fell 
like  a  chill  on  Kirk's  eager  hopes.  Now  that  the  die  was 
about  to  be  cast  he  discovered  that  his  courage  was  all  gone, 
and  as  he  knocked  he  trembled.  A  slatternly  girl  opened 
the  door.  She  listened  with  contempt  to  Kirk's  request  to 
see  Mr.  Kittredge.  He  spoke  low  and  pleadingly,  and  at 
once  confirmed  the  suspicions  engendered  by  his  disreputable 
clothes  and  haggard,  unshaven  face. 

"  No  beggars!  "  she  exclaimed,  and  would  have  slammed 
the  door  in  his  face  had  he  not,  with  surprising  presence  of 
mind,  stuck  in  his  sloppy  boot  to  prevent  her.  She  kicked 
at  it  viciously  from  within.  Kirk  rapped  loudly  on  the  panel, 
and  expostulated  fiercely.  The  young  woman  screamed.  A 
crowd  sprang  up  from  nowhere.  Inside  the  house  heavy 

51 


THE   ADVENTURER 

footsteps  could  be  heard  descending  the  stairs  two  steps  at 
a  time,  hastening  to  the  defense. 

The  door  was  flung  wide  open,  and  Kirk  saw  before 
him  a  bristly  haired,  broad-shouldered,  very  angry  young  man 
in  gold  spectacles. 

"What's  all  this?"  he  demanded,  with  the  glitter  of 
battle  in  his  eyes.  "  What  do  you  mean  by  sticking  your 
foot  in  my  door?  " 

"  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Kittredge." 

"I'm  Mr.  Kittredge!" 

Kirk  faltered.  The  words  he  meant  to  say  died  on  his 
lips.  He  was  silent. 

"  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself !  "  cried  the  novel- 
ist. "A  big,  sturdy  man  like  you  begging!  I  won't  give 
you  a  penny,  and  if  you  don't  clear  out  I'll  punch  your 
head!" 

Kirk  did  not  budge.  His  white  face,  his  evident  distress, 
the  glisten  of  real  tears  in  his  eyes — all  struck  the  novelist 
with  a  sudden  contrition. 

"  Oh,  well,  here's  a  shilling!  "  he  cried.  "  Take  it,  and 
get!" 

Kirk,  in  a  broken  voice,  refused  the  alms. 

"  Mr.  Kittredge,"  he  said,  "  it  is  true  I  am  a  beggar — 
but  not  that  kind  of  beggar.  Look  here !  "  and  with  that 
he  plumped  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  and  drew  it  out  brim- 
ming with  gold. 

The  sight  staggered  Homer  Kittredge.  His  face  changed 
to  an  extraordinary  interest.  Still  holding  the  shilling  he 
studied  Kirk  from  top  to  toe,  his  amazement  increasing  as 
he  contrasted  the  latter's  disheveled  and  unkempt  appearance 
with  the  shining  sovereigns. 

"Then  what  do  you  want?"  he  demanded  at  last. 

"  Eight  pounds,"  said  Kirk. 
52 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"'But,  my  dear  fellow,  why  in  Heaven's  name  should  I 
give  you  eight  pounds  ?  " 

"  If  you'll  let  me  come  in  I'll  tell  you  why,"  said  Kirk. 
"  Oh,  Mr.  Kittredge,  please  let  me  come  in!  " 

The  great  writer  still  stared  at  him.  He  seemed  at  a 
loss  to  know  how  to  answer.  The  master  of  imaginary  ro- 
mances stood  spellbound  before  the  real  thing. 

"  All  right — come  along,"  he  said.  "  I  won't  promise 
you  eight  pounds,  but  I'll  give  you  ten  minutes  of  my  time. 
Mind  the  step,  old  fellow !  " 

And  thus  invited,  Kirk  followed  Homer  Kittredge  into 
the  dark  and  uninviting  passage. 


53 


CHAPTER   VI 

E  was  led  upstairs  and  ushered  into  an  attrac- 
tively furnished  room.  At  one  end,  sparkling 
in  the  light  of  the  open  fire,  was  a  trophy 
of  arms — rifles,  bayonets,  Oriental  daggers, 
etc.  On  the  warmly  tinted  walls  hung  re- 
productions of  Detaille — dashing  war  pictures,  full  of  move- 
ment, color,  and  red  legs.  Limp  red  legs  lying  dead  on 
gray  village  streets;  vigorous  red  legs,  astride  of  horses,  in- 
tercepting Uhlans;  weary  but  heroic  red  legs,  covering  the 
retreat  of  dusty  columns ;  dejected  red  legs,  cutting  the  regi- 
mental colors  into  pieces  before  surrender.  There  were  two 
tables  in  the  room.  One  littered  with  manuscript,  cigar 
stumps,  books,  and  newspapers;  the  other  spread  for  a  soli- 
tary dinner  that  Kirk  had  evidently  interrupted. 

"Hungry?"  inquired  the  novelist,  picking  his  napkin 
off  the  floor,  and  briskly  seating  himself. 

"  Yes " 

"  Well,  then  sit  down.    Beer?" 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Kittredge,  I  did  not  mean  to " 

"  Hold  your  tongue,"  said  the  novelist  cheerfully.  "  Skip 
gratitude  and  all  that,  and  get  yourself  one  of  those  mugs 
off  the  mantelpiece."  As  Kirk  obeyed  he  carved  a  slice  off 
the  roast,  and  apologized  for  offering  it  to  him  on  a  bread- 
plate. 

"  But  I  dare  say  you  won't  mind,"  he  added. 
The  two  men  smiled  at  each  other  across  the  table. 
Kittredge  flourished  his  mug. 
54 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  Now,  my  handsome  tramp,"  he  cried,  with  ambiguous 
geniality,  "  let's  drink  to  our  better  acquaintance,  and  try 
not  to  tell  me  any  more  lies  than  you  can  help.  Murderer, 
thief,  blackmailer,  felon — and  you  may  throw  yourself  fear- 
lessly on  my  breast — for  it's  my  business  to  get  behind  the 
scenes  of  life,  and  right  down  to  the  heart  of  things.  I 
will  keep  your  secret,  and  hose  you  down  with  good  advice. 
But  if  you  insist  on  feats  of  imagination,  and  think  to  fool 
me  with  a  penny  novelette — I  warn  you  that  I'm  an  impa- 
tient man,  and  ill  to  deal  with.  Truth  I  love;  fiction  I  can 
do  for  myself,  and  probably  better  than  you.  Horseradish  ?  " 

Kirk  listened  unruffled  to  this  extraordinary  speech.  He 
was  in  a  state  of  delicious  contentment,  and  all  his  cares  and 
miseries  seemed  at  an  end.  He  drank  his  beer,  devoured  his 
beef,  put  away  countless  squares  of  bread,  smiling  like  a  child 
whenever  he  met  those  restless  black  eyes  that  fixed  them- 
selves so  constantly  on  his.  His  attitude  plainly  puzzled 
Kittredge,  who,  in  spite  of  his  better  judgment,  felt  strongly 
attracted  toward  his  strange  guest,  and  inclined  to  believe 
in  him. 

"  You  are  a  slow  fellow  in  coming  to  the  point,"  he 
ventured  at  last. 

"I'm  afraid  to,"  said  Kirk.  "Nobody  in  the  whole 
world  ever  needed  eight  pounds  more  than  I  do.  While  I 
sit  here,  eating  your  excellent  dinner,  I  can  tell  myself  the 
fairy  tale  that  you  will  give  it  to  me,  and  feel  comfortable 
and  safe." 

"But  why  eight  pounds?"  asked  Kittredge.  "It's  an 
unusual  kind  of  sum.  A  chap  that  would  give  you  eight 
would  just  as  readily  give  you  ten !  " 

Kirk  emptied  his  pockets  on  the  tablecloth,  building  up 
a  little  pile  of  gold,  notes,  silver,  and  coppers. 

"  I  have  to  make  that  a  hundred,"  he  said.  "  I  don't 
55 


THE   ADVENTURER 

care  if  it  isn't  a  penny  over.  But  one  penny  less,  and  I'll 
almost  go  mad  with  disappointment.  If  by  to-morrow  after- 
noon I  don't  have  a  hundred-pound  note  to  show  to  a  cer- 
tain person,  I  forfeit  all  chances  to  a  hundred  thou- 
sand!" 

"  A  hundred  thousand !  "  exclaimed  Kittredge  incredu- 
lously. "  Now,  see  here,  do  you  think  I'm  going  to  swallow 
all  that?" 

Kirk  was  abashed  by  his  rough  and  jeering  tone. 

"  Perhaps  only  ten  thousand,"  he  said  hurriedly.  "  It's 
all  very  mysterious,  Mr.  Kittredge.  I'll — I'll  tell  you  about 
it,  and  then  you  can  judge  for  yourself." 

This  he  forthwith  proceeded  to  do.  Kittredge  lit  a  cigar 
and  listened,  his  keen,  mobile  face  constantly  changing  its 
expression  as  Kirk  took  up  the  thread  of  his  narrative  from 
the  time  he  arrived  in  London,  down  to  his  encounter  with 
Mr.  Betts.  From  time  to  time  Kittredge  put  a  question, 
always  rather  sharply,  and  then  with  a  wave  of  his  cigar 
bade  Kirk  continue.  His  interest  was  manifest,  and  once 
or  twice,  in  a  curt,  illuminating  way  he  helped  Kirk  out 
as  the  latter  was  at  a  loss  for  the  right  word.  In  the  middle 
of  it  all  the  girl  came  in  to  clear  the  table.  Kittredge  or- 
dered her  to  leave  the  room  and,  rising,  locked  the  door,  and 
then  resumed  his  seat,  checking  a  facetious  remark  of  Kirk's 
with  an  impulsive,  "  Go  on,  go  on — never  mind  that !  " 

At  the  end  of  his  story,  carried  to  the  novelist's  very 
threshold,  Kirk  reached  over  for  a  cigar,  and  waited  for 
his  companion  to  speak.  He  hardly  knew  what  to  expect, 
and  his  uncertainty  was  not  relieved  by  Kittredge  springing 
to  his  feet,  and  striding  about  the  room,  exclaiming,  "  By 
Jove !  By  Jove !  "  excitedly  under  his  breath. 

Then  he  returned  and,  leaning  over  Kirk,  said  he'd  give 
a  thousand  pounds  to  change  places  with  him. 

56 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"To  think  I  was  grubbing  here  while  things  like  that 
were  going  on  under  my  nose!  That's  the  worst  of  us 
writers — we  dream  of  romance  while  fellows  like  you,  con- 
found you,  are  doing  it — living  it — eating  and  drinking  and 
sleeping  with  it!  It's  a  shame  that  I  should  be  getting 
this  second-hand.  I  ought  to  have  been  there  myself.  I 
wonder  if  it's  too  late?  You  ask  them  when  you  go  back. 
Don't  tell  them  it's  me — but  just  say  a  friend,  and  put 
it  in  hot.  Will  you,  old  man?  I  mean  it,  truly!  I'd 
chuck  this  to-morrow  on  the  bare  chance.  Oh,  Lordy,  why 
don't  I  read  my  Times  \  " 

Kirk  timidly  brought  up  the  subject  of  the  eight  pounds. 

"  Eight  pounds!  "  cried  the  novelist,  stamping  about  the 
room  again.  "  Bet  your  boots  I  will.  Only  you  must  come 
back  and  tell  me  all  about  it.  That's  the  bargain,  Kirkpatrick. 
You  owe  it  to  me,  you  know.  You'll  be  a  cur  if  you  don't. 
There  are  more  stories  in  this  old  town  than  I  ever  found 
in  Africa,  and,  by  George,  I  think  you  and  I  have  got  a  big 
one  by  the  tail !  " 

Kirk  was  too  overcome  to  speak.  The  friendship,  the 
sympathy,  above  everything  else  the  assurance  of  the  eight 
pounds,  fired  his  brain  and  set  his  pulses  dancing.  His 
wildest  hopes  had  not  soared  so  high.  He  had  never  an- 
ticipated that  his  story  would  carry  Kittredge  away  in  this 
headlong  fashion.  The  reaction  left  him  sick  and  giddy. 
An  hysterical  gayety  possessed  him.  He  found  himself 
shaking  Kittredge's  hand  and  vowing  eternal  brotherhood. 
The  spectacles  glimmered  and  shone  through  clouds  of  to- 
bacco smoke;  the  impetuous  voice  rose  in  a  crescendo.  It 
seemed  he  was  a  man  after  Kittredge's  own  heart ;  that  Kitt- 
redge, indeed,  was  just  such  another;  that  life  was  the  real 
thing,  my  boy,  and  books  the  wretched  substitute — diabetic 
make-believes,  so  to  speak,  for  the  crusty,  wholesome  loaf 

57 


THE   ADVENTURER 

that  real  men  crave.  They  toasted  each  other  in  beer,  smok- 
ing furiously. 

Kirk  gradually  recovered  something  of  his  composure. 

"  Frankly,  Mr.  Kittredge,"  he  said  at  last,  "  what  do  you 
suppose  it  all  means?  " 

Kittredge  shook  his  head. 

"  I  haven't  the  faintest  idea,"  he  returned.  "  But  in  the 
general  mystery  several  things  stand  out.  These  people  have 
money — a  very  great  deal  of  money,  apparently,  to  judge 
from  the  way  they  rent  houses  and  throw  about  hundred- 
pound  notes.  Secondly,  their  system  is  admirably  devised. 
It  implies  an  unusual  knowledge  of  human  nature.  They're 
getting  together  a  body  of  men  who  will  go  anywhere  and 
dare  anything.  They  are  drawing  on  the  real  desperate 
class — men  of  tried  courage  and  character,  with  nothing  to 
lose — nothing  but  their  lives,  and  you  and  I  know  how  cheap 
lives  are  held  with  that  sort.  Thirdly,  the  adventure  is 
admittedly  hazardous.  Your  Mr.  Smith  told  you  that  him- 
self; even  laid  it  on  a  bit;  showed  an  evident  willingness 
to  scare  off  the  weaklings." 

"  Well  ?  "  asked  Kirk,  as  the  novelist  paused. 

"  It  must  be  something  of  the  freebooting  order,"  Kitt- 
redge resumed.  "  Finnish  revolution,  gun-running  in  Hayti, 
perhaps  some  African  mix-up  of  the  Rajah  Brooke  de- 
scription. It  wouldn't  surprise  me  if  your  friends  were 
to  carve  out  a  kingdom  somewhere  a  la  Pizarro.  In  some 
ways  it  is  easier  to-day  than  it  ever  was  before.  The  map 
isn't  at  all  so  securely  tinted  as  some  people  believe.  Why 
should  not  one  of  our  enormously  rich  men  strike  out  on 
the  good  old-fashioned  lines  of  personal  leadership?  Give 
me  five  million  pounds,  and  I  could  take  my  choice  of  twenty 
savage  kingdoms.  The  two-party  system  exists  everywhere, 
old  man,  and  all  you  need  to  do  is  to  swing  one  of  them! 


"  '  That's  the  bargain,   Kirkpatrick.'  " 


THE   ADVENTURER 

That's  how  Cortez  got  Mexico.  Turn  the  scale,  that's  all. 
Throw  in  your  weight  with  the  opposition,  and  stiffen  them 
up  with  money  and  guns.  That's  been  politics  from  the 
year  one.  Maximilian  tried  it,  too,  and  would  have  won 
in  a  canter  if  you  Americans  hadn't  fought  him  under  the 
rose.  Uncle  Sam  was  too  strong  for  him — but,  my  stars, 
it  wasn't  the  Mexicans!  " 

An  hour  ran  by  as  they  sat  and  talked  and  speculated  on 
this  fascinating  subject.  Kittredge  got  down  an  atlas,  and 
ran  his  thumb  over  many  a  potential  conquest.  The  process 
of  putting  two  and  two  together  was  endlessly  repeated. 
Mr.  Smith's  chance  expressions  were  weighed,  argued  over, 
and  minutely  analyzed.  They  groped  for  hidden  meanings, 
for  clews.  Kirk  had  to  repeat  the  whole  story,  with  slow 
and  elaborate  details.  He  was  made  to  give  Mr.  Smith's 
intonations,  his  very  manner  as  he  said  this  or  that.  The 
doctor,  too,  was  put  under  a  microscope.  Kittredge  was  a 
veritable  literary  bloodhound.  Give  him  an  old  boot,  or  a 
discarded  hat,  and  he  could  pursue  a  trail  indefinitely.  Pur- 
sue— but  alas,  never  to  reach  anywhere.  At  last  he  had  to 
admit  that  the  problem  was  insoluble.  They  had  not  enough 
to  go  on.  Nothing  but  conjecture,  conjecture,  conjecture, 
racking  to  the  brain,  but  accomplishing  nothing. 

Suddenly  the  novelist  looked  up  at  the  clock. 

"By  Jove,  I  must  get  back  to  work!"  he  exclaimed. 
"  All  this  put  it  clean  out  of  my  head.  I  have  two  chapters 
to  finish !  You  won't  mind,  will  you  ?  " 

Kirk  rose  apologetically,  thinking  that  he  was  dis- 
missed. 

"  Oh,  no,  no!  "  said  Kittredge.     "  I  tell  you  what.     Go 

into  my  room  there,  and  shave  and  have  a  bath  and  get  into 

that  purple  dressing  gown  some  tomfool  admirer  sent  me 

last  week.     Then  lie  down   on  the  sofa  here,   and  make 

5  59 


THE   ADVENTURER 

yourself  comfortable  till  I've  finished.  Then  I'll  make  up 
some  kind  of  bed  for  you  on  the  floor." 

Kirk  felt  bound  to  protest  a  little.  He  hated  to  be  in 
the  way  and  said  so.  He  would  return  in  the  morning.  He 
wouldn't  presume  any  further  on  Mr.  Kittredge's  kindness. 
But  Mr.  Kittredge's  answer  was  a  good-natured  oath. 

"  Do  what  you're  told  and  keep  quiet,"  he  said  with 
charming  brutality.  "  Get  out,  do  you  hear,  and  don't  bother 
me.  Open  your  head  again,  and  I'll  throw  a  bootjack  at 
you.  Skedaddle!" 

Thus  expedited,  Kirk  went  into  the  bedroom,  and  obeyed 
his  directions  to  the  letter.  Oh,  how  good  it  was  to  take  off 
that  two-days'  beard,  to  slop  and  splash  in  the  wash  basin,  to 
lie  his  length  in  the  bath  and  feel  a  delicious  lassitude  steal 
over  him !  He  dawdled  luxuriously,  enjoying  to  the  full  every 
stage  of  his  toilet,  and  tiptoed  about  so  as  to  make  as  little 
noise  as  possible.  His  mind  was  relieved  of  all  its  worries. 
No  longer  did  the  nightmare  of  that  eight  pounds  rise  and 
daunt  him.  He  had  got  it!  Wonder  of  wonders,  he  had 
got  it!  And  had  not  only  got  it,  but  had  found  a  friend 
also — Homer  Kittredge,  the  most  dominant  figure  in  Lon- 
don at  that  moment !  How  good  the  world  was,  to  be  sure ! 
What  good  hearts  it  held,  what  generosity  and  kindness! 
His  hands  were  reverent  of  the  combs  and  brushes,  the  towels, 
the  shaving  mug.  They  were  Kittredge's,  and  he  touched 
them  respectfully  because  they  were  Kittredge's.  On  the 
dresser  was  a  gold  watch,  a  lumpy  purse,  a  jeweled  knife. 
There  was  nothing  to  prevent  him  from  putting  them  in  his 
pocket  and  bolting.  Such  trust  in  him  made  his  breast 
heave.  This  was  what  had  made  Kittredge  great — his 
knowledge  of  men.  You  could  be  ragged  and  dirty  and 
unkempt,  but  those  eyes  could  see  the  soul  beneath,  and  find 
honor  and  uprightness  within.  Had  Kirk  been  an  Oriental 

60 


THE   ADVENTURER 

he  would  have  knelt  down  and  kissed  every  one  of  those  eight 
pairs  of  boots  that  were  arranged  so  neatly  against  the  wall. 
Being  a  white  man,  and  unused  to  such  practical  manifesta- 
tions of  regard,  he  could  only  murmur  in  a  broken  voice: 
"  God  bless  him !  God  bless  him !  "  And  hope  in  days  to 
come  he  might  be  able  to  prove  his  gratitude. 

The  purple  dressing  gown  was  lying  across  the  back  of 
a  chair.  It  was  gorgeously  embroidered  with  gold  thread, 
and  lined  inside  with  watered  silk.  It  had  a  brilliant,  new 
look,  as  though  the  novelist  himself  had  hesitated  at  array- 
ing himself  in  such  Arabian  Nights  splendor,  and  preferred 
to  treat  it  as  an  objet  d'art.  Kirk,  with  trepidation,  got  into 
the  lordly  garment,  and  knotted  the  sash  around  his  waist. 
He  would  have  vastly  preferred  a  suit  of  pyjamas,  but  orders 
were  orders,  and  he  was  only  doing  what  Kittredge  had 
bidden  him.  He  returned  to  the  other  room,  expecting  to 
be  greeted  with  a  shout  of  laughter.  'But  Kittredge  was 
head-down  in  his  writing,  and  oblivious  to  everything  but 
his  work.  Kirk  laid  down  on  the  sofa,  and  little  by  little 
dozed  off  in  sleep. 

At  intervals  during  the  night  he  awoke,  wondering  and 
bewildered  at  the  strangeness  of  his  surroundings.  His 
sleepy  eyes  would  settle  themselves  on  that  black  head  so 
intently  bent  over  the  paper,  and  his  sleepy  ears  would  listen 
to  the  racing  of  the  pen.  Half  hidden  in  a  cloud  of  tobacco 
smoke,  and  impelled  by  an  ungovernable  fury  of  creative 
effort,  Kittredge  was  performing  one  of  his  prodigies,  re- 
gardless of  time  or  jaded  nature.  As  a  page  was  finished 
he  flung  it  to  the  floor,  and  with  a  snatch  at  the  ink  bottle 
began  again  on  the  fresh  sheet.  The  extraordinary  energy 
and  concentration  of  this  performance  hypnotized  Kirk.  The 
rain  of  paper,  the  scratch,  scratch,  scratch  of  the  pen,  the 
bent  and  determined  shoulders  as  fixed  as  a  statue's — all 

61 


THE   ADVENTURER 

followed  him  into  his  dreams,  so  that  asleep  or  awake  there 
always  was  Kittredge,  indomitably  toiling  into  the  small 
hours.  The  scene  varied — now  it  was  Arorai,  now  it  was 
the  cabin  of  a  ship,  now  it  was  Radnor  Street — but  where- 
ever  it  was  there  also  was  Kittredge,  doubled  over  his  desk, 
writing,  writing,  writing. 

He  never  knew  at  what  advanced  hour  the  novelist  had 
finally  tired  and  gone  to  bed.  It  was  morning  when  Kirk 
awoke  for  the  last  time  and  found  himself  alone.  A  gray, 
dark  morning,  mournfully  brought  to  his  attention  by  the 
strains  of  a  grind-organ  in  the  streets  below.  Over  him  was 
a  blanket  that  he  had  no  recollection  of — another  proof  of 
Kittredge's  thoughtfulness.  He  sat  up  and  looked  at  the 
clock,  thunderstruck  to  find  that  it  was  after  nine.  Beside 
the  sofa  were  his  clothes  in  a  tumbled  heap,  surmounted  by 
a  little  note,  and  nine  pounds  in  sovereigns. 

"I  am  dog-tired,  and  will  ask  you  to  please  not  disturb 
me.  Here's  a  pound  over,  with  my  blessing.  Come  back 
to-morrow  and  let  me  know  all  about  it. — H.  K." 

Kirk  dressed  himself,  feeling  delightfully  rested  and  in- 
vigorated. That  extra  pound  was  a  Godsend,  and  would 
put  him  on  velvet.  He  would  treat  himself  to  a  capital 
breakfast  and  get  into  fine  trim  for  his  afternoon's  appoint- 
ment. Great  Scott!  though,  what  a  narrow  shave  it  had 
been !  The  thought  made  him  shiver — as  a  man  shivers  when 
he  recalls  some  frightful  accident  that  he  has  lately  escaped. 
It  is  always  more  terrifying  in  the  retrospect  than  at  the 
time.  One  needs  a  little  leisure  to  become  properly  panic- 
stricken.  And  with  the  shiver  was  a  gloating  sense  of 
safety,  of  everything  having  come  out  right,  of  a  heart  no 
longer  burdened  and  oppressed.  All  about  him  on  the  floor 

62 


THE  ADVENTURER 

were  those  scribbled  sheets.  He  stepped  carefully  in  order 
to  avoid  them.  Some  day  he  would  read  them  in  a  book, 
and  Kittredge  would  remind  him  when  and  where  they  had 
been  written.  How  they  would  laugh  and  talk,  the  pair 
of  them!  What  a  privilege  it  was  to  know  such  a  man! 
The  greatest  man  in  England,  and — Kirk's  friend!  It  was 
a  happy  augury  for  the  desperate  enterprise  that  it  had 
already  brought  him  this!  He  smoothed  out  the  dress- 
ing gown  and  wondered  how  he'd  ever  dared  to  wear  it. 
It  shone  richly  in  the  daylight,  and  fell  into  lustrous  folds 
as  he  assisted  it  to  a  chair.  A  present  from  a  duchess,  prob- 
ably. Well,  wait  a  bit,  and  he'd  make  Kittredge  presents, 
too!  A  gold-topped  dressing  case,  perhaps,  or  a  penholder 
encrusted  with  diamonds!  Nothing  would  be  too  good  for 
Kittredge.  He  wouldn't  mind  if  it  cost  him  a  thousand 
pounds.  He  had  to  get  even  somehow,  though  all  the  money 
in  the  world  would  leave  him  still  a  debtor.  Kittredge  had 
saved  him.  Kittredge  had  pulled  him  out  of  hell! 

He  wrote  a  few  lines  of  farewell  and  hung  the  missive 
from  the  chandelier.  But  he  could  not  bear  to  go  without 
another  look  at  his  benefactor.  He  peeped  in  the  darkened 
bedroom,  and  glanced  at  the  recumbent  figure  beneath  the 
covers.  Only  a  black  head  showed,  and  one  muscular  arm 
flung  out  in  the  abandonment  of  slumber.  He  would  have 
liked  to  shake  that  hand  before  departing — to  blurt  out  his 
thanks,  his  gratitude.  It  gave  him  a  pang  to  go  like  this, 
without  one  word.  Well,  his  little  note  would  have  to  say 
it  for  him !  He  stealthily  shut  the  door,  and  made  his  way 
out  of  the  house,  stopping  in  the  street  to  look  up  at  the 
windows  of  Kittredge's  room. 

What  amazing  things  had  happened  since  last  he  had 
stood  there  only  a  few  short  hours  before ! 

He  took  breakfast  in  a  quiet  little  coffee  room,  smoked 

63 


THE   ADVENTURER 

his  pipe,  and  waited  for  the  banks  to  open.  There  didn't 
seem  to  be  any  in  this  neighborhood,  and  he  had  quite  a  long 
search  to  find  one.  It  was  an  imposing  structure,  with  mar- 
ble steps  and  a  uniformed  doorkeeper.  Kirk  directed  him- 
self to  the  cashier's  wicket,  and  confidently  laid  down  an 
exact  hundred  pounds  that  he  had  previously  counted.  He 
was  smiling  with  satisfaction,  and  in  the  exuberance  of  his 
feelings  wished  the  cashier  good  morning. 

"  I  should  be  very  much  obliged  if  you  could  let  me  have 
a  hundred-pound  note,"  he  said. 

The  cashier,  a  fastidiously  well-dressed  young  man,  eyed 
him  superciliously,  and  in  a  drawling  voice,  the  acme  of 
refined  insolence,  asked  him  if  he  were  a  customer  of  the 
bank? 

"  Why,  no,"  returned  Kirk,  conscious  for  the  first  time 
that  his  appearance  was  against  him.  "  But  I  hope  that " 

"  Can't  do  it,"  said  the  cashier  languidly,  turning  on 
Kirk  the  back  of  a  faultlessly  fitting  coat. 

Kirk  explained  civilly  that  he  was  a  stranger,  and  that  it 
was  a  matter  of  urgent  importance;  that  it  would  be  a  favor 
on  the  part  of  the  supercilious  young  man  to  oblige  him. 

"  Can't  do  it,"  snapped  the  cashier,  laying  a  caressing 
hand  on  a  tray  of  gold.  "  We  deal  only  with  customers !  " 

This  put  a  new  idea  into  Kirk's  head. 

"  How  does  one  become  a  customer?  "  he  asked,  think- 
ing he  might  pay  in  a  hundred  at  one  end  and  draw  it  out 
at  the  other — an  ingenious  stratagem,  possibly  open  to  criti- 
cism, but  unavoidably  forced  upon  him.  No  doubt  the 
process  would  take  a  little  time.  But  what  was  time! 
He  had  oceans  of  time!  And  it  would  teach  that  hide- 
bound old  bank  not  to  trifle  with  Americans. 

But  he  had  failed  to  count  on  the  conservatism  of  British 
institutions. 

64 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  You  must  be  introduced  by  another  customer,"  drawled 
the  cashier. 

Kirk  left  the  bank  and  sought  another.  This  was  a  much 
less  pretentious  place — no  lordling  here  behind  the  wicket, 
but  a  careworn  man  in  a  shabby  alpaca  coat.  Kirk  laid  down 
his  money,  and  with  all  the  ingratiation  he  could  muster 
begged  permission  to  exchange  it  for  a  hundred-pound  note. 

The  careworn  man  was  unexpectedly  polite.  Without 
actually  committing  himself  as  to  the  note,  he  engaged  Kirk 
in  a  friendly  conversation,  smiling  and  smirking  in  the  most 
unaccountable  manner.  Kirk  thought  his  behavior  peculiar, 
but  hiding  his  surprise,  tried  to  sustain  his  side  of  the  con- 
versation and  acquit  himself  no  less  handsomely.  The 
agreeable  fiction  was  suddenly  disturbed,  however,  by  the 
arrival  of  the  bank  manager  behind  the  bars.  This  individ- 
ual eyed  him  sharply,  exposing  to  view  as  he  did  so  a 
printed  broadside  headed:  "Scotland  Yard,  Warning  to 
Bankers." 

"  Wrong  man,"  said  the  manager.  "  Too  tall  for  Til- 
lottson — no  scar  under  the  left  eye — nose  doesn't  correspond. 
What  kind  of  a  game  is  he  trying  to  work  on  you  ?  " 

"  Says  he  wishes  a  hundred-pound  note  for  this,  sir." 

The  manager  looked  suspiciously  at  the  pile  of  money, 
and  taking  up  one  of  the  gold  pieces  rang  it  on  the  counter. 
Then  he  sampled  one  of  Kirk's  five-pound  notes. 

"  Tell  him  to  go  away,"  said  the  manager  to  the  cashier, 
as  though  he  were  too  proud  to  address  Kirk  personally, 
and  preferred  this  regal  indirectness.  "  Tell  him  to  go  away 
directly." 

"  Go  away!  "  repeated  the  cashier. 

Then  Kirk,  gathering  up  his  money,  forthwith  retired 
from  that  temple  of  Mammon.  He  tried  another,  and  an- 
other. He  was  repulsed  everywhere.  His  attempt  to  change 

65 


THE   ADVENTURER 

his  money  into  a  hundred-pound  note  was  regarded  as  darkly 
nefarious.  The  trick  wasn't  apparent  on  the  face  of  it,  but 
one  look  at  him  seemed  sufficient  to  arouse  the  banking  in- 
terest to  the  enormity  of  his  demand.  Scarecrow  figures  like 
himself  had  no  legitimate  business  with  hundred-pound  notes. 
He  was  dismissed  with  varying  shades  of  incivility — from 
the  icy-polite  to  the  frankly  insolent. 

After  three  hours  of  this  kind  of  thing  Kirk  began  to 
lose  heart.  It  was  already  past  noon,  and  he  had  little  time 
to  lose.  He  decided  on  a  new  plan  of  operations,  and  sought 
out  the  money-changing  kiosk  in  the  yard  of  Charing  Cross 
station.  Taking  the  bull  by  the  horns,  he  described  his  un- 
availing effort  to  get  a  hundred-pound  note,  and  offered  the 
man  a  premium  of  ten  shillings  to  enlist  his  interest.  He 
had  been  so  repeatedly  rebuffed  that  his  manner  in  spite  of 
himself,  had  lost  all  its  assurance.  Thief  and  impostor  was 
stamped  all  over  him.  He  made  his  request  with  such  a 
hang-doggish  air  that  it  would  have  been  a  bold  man  who 
would  have  entrusted  him  with  threepence. 

"But  what  do  you  want  it  for?"  demanded  the  man, 
rigid  with  suspicion. 

Kirk's  explanations  were  very  lame.  After  a  certain 
amount  of  hemming  and  hawing,  it  occurred  to  him  to  make 
capital  out  of  his  misfortune. 

"  None  of  the  banks  will  take  my  money  on  deposit 
unless  I'm  introduced,"  he  said.  "  I  can't  go  around  like 
this,  carrying  all  this  stuff  loose  in  my  pocket,  now  can  I  ? 
But  I  could  sew  a  hundred-pound  note  in  my  clothes,  don't 
you  see  ?  " 

"  Oh,  if  it's  only  to  deposit,"  exclaimed  the  man,  "  we 
can  accommodate  you  very  easily.  We  pay  three  per  cent 
on  short  terms  and  four  on  longer.  Why  didn't  you  say  that 
at  once,  and  save  trouble?  " 

66 


THE   ADVENTURER 

Kirk  was  handed  a  form  to  fill  out,  and  was  further 
obliged  with  a  stylographic  pen! 

This  was  a  facer  indeed.  His  own  petard  was  hoisting 
him  with  a  vengeance.  He  feebly  explained  that  he  would 
prefer  to  take  the  note.  That  he  would  willingly  pay 
fifteen  shillings  premium.  That  the  likelihood  of  his  leav- 
ing England  at  short  notice  rendered  the  note  almost  a 
necessity. 

"  Then  we'll  give  you  notes  of  the  country  you're  going 
to,"  said  the  man,  with  diabolical  helpfulness.  "  East  or 
west,  north  or  south,  in  kroners,  dollars,  thalers,  francs, 
marks,  pesetas — we  pride  ourselves  in  doing  the  biggest 
money-changing  business  in  London." 

"  I'd  rather  have  a  hundred  pounds  in  English  money," 
quavered  Kirk. 

"  Well,  we  can  manage  that,  too,"  said  the  man,  going 
to  a  drawer.  "  Here's  a  fifty,  two  tens " 

"  But  I  want  it  all  in  one  note,"  persisted  Kirk.  "  It's 
no  good  to  me  if  it  isn't  in  one  note.  I  want  a  hundred- 
pound  note !  " 

The  money  changer's  long-suffering  patience  exploded. 
We  shall  not  go  into  what  he  said,  nor  how  he  said  it.  Kirk 
retired  at  the  first  volley,  and,  to  complete  the  military  meta- 
phor, fled  in  disorder.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to 
return  to  Kittredge,  and  again  appeal  to  the  novelist's  sym- 
pathy. Fool  that  he  had  been  not  to  do  it  sooner,  and  thus 
spare  himself  hours  of  humiliation.  Kittredge,  besides,  was 
close  at  hand.  Rye  Row  was  only  three  minutes  away.  He 
hated  to  bother  Kittredge  any  more,  but  in  the  words  of  the 
proverb,  "  needs  must  when  the  devil  drives!  " 

A  little  later  he  was  knocking  at  the  well-remembered 
door.  The  same  little  servant  let  him  in.  Port  at  last,  thank 
Heaven ! 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  May  I  see  Mr.  Kittredge  ?  Go  up  and  tell  him  it  is 
Lewis  Kirkpatrick  on  most  urgent  business!  " 

"  I'm  sorry,"  said  the  little  maid,  "  but  Mr.  Kittredge 
\vas  called  away  most  unexpectedly  at  ten  o'clock." 

"  But  when  will  he  be  back?  " 

Kirk's  heart  was  in  his  throat,  and  a  terrible  conster- 
nation beset  him. 

"  Can't  say,"  said  the  girl.  "  He  didn't  seem  to  know 
himself.  It  was  down  in  Surrey  somewhere." 

"Down  in  Surrey  somewhere!"  repeated  Kirk.  "Do 
you  mean  to  tell  me  he  left  no  address?  " 

"  Oh,  no!  "  said  the  girl.  "  He  never  leaves  his  address. 
Mr.  Kittredge  is  a  very  queer  gentleman.  He  comes  and 
he  goes — it  may  be  a  day,  it  may  be  a  week.  Often  in  the 
morning  I  take  the  tray  up  to  him,  and  he  ain't  there !  Yes, 
a  very  queer  gentleman !  Do  you  wish  to  leave  a  message  in 
case  he  should  come  back?  " 

"  I  think  not,"  groaned  Kirk.  "  Indeed,  don't  know  what 
to  do.  I'll  come  back  later.  Yes,  I'll  come  back  later!  " 

The  girl  watched  him  curiously  as  he  turned  and  walked 
away. 

"  Poor  fellow,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  I'm  sorry  I  didn't 
offer  him  a  piece  of  cold  meat.  He's  a  nice-spoken  gentle- 
man in  spite  of  his  clothes,  and  his  face  is  fair  pitiful.  Oh, 
dear,  oh,  dear,  what  a  hard  world  it  is,  to  be  sure!  " 


68 


CHAPTER   VII 

F  all  Kirk's  vicissitudes,  this  seemed  to  him 
the  worst.  The  weight  of  his  pocket,  heavy 
with  gold,  mocked  him  at  every  step.  A 
myriad  of  clocks  warned  him  that  the  pre- 
cious moments  were  slipping  by,  and  that  his 
appointment  at  82  Tedworth  Street  was  in  jeopardy.  It 
was  already  after  one,  and  although  "  afternoon  "  is  an  elastic 
term,  no  amount  of  stretching  could  make  it  include  to- 
morrow and  the  day  after.  Six  o'clock  woul'd  spell  the 
knell  of  his  hopes.  And  the  exasperating  thing  was  that  he 
had  his  hundred  pounds  safe  and  clinking  under  his  hand! 
But  for  Mr.  Smith's  absurd  proviso  he  might  jump  into  the 
first  hansom  and  keep  his  appointment  and  his  word.  But 
it  had  to  be  a  note — a  hundred-pound  note!  Oh,  good  Lord, 
what  was  he  to  do — what  was  he  to  do?  He  might  appeal 
to  the  American  consul.  He  might  lay  his  plight  before 
one  of  those  rich  Americans  that  can  always  be  found  in 
London.  But  this  meant  delay,  and,  worse  still,  precluded 
him  from  hanging  about  Rye  Row  on  the  chance  of  Kittredge 
returning  unexpectedly.  Of  all  the  alternatives  before  him 
the  safest  and  the  surest  was  to  camp  on  the  novelist's  door- 
step. 

It  was  possible,  indeed,  that  Mr.  Smith  might  be  less 
exacting  about  the  appointment  than  the  note.  He  had  laid 
no  particular  stress  on  the  appointment.  The  test  of  char- 
acter was  the  return  of  the  hundred-pound  note  intact.  A 
little  delay  might  easily  be  accounted  for.  No  delay  could 

69 


THE   ADVENTURER 

be  as  damning  as  the  absence  of  the  note.  Even  if  he  were 
a  day — two  days — late,  he  need  not  absolutely  despair.  Such 
were  Kirk's  reflections  as  he  strolled  miserably  along,  at- 
tempting to  put  a  brave  face  on  the  matter.  But  nothing 
could  stifle  the  inner  voice  that  said  all  was  lost.  It  per- 
sisted drearily,  and  called  his  attention  to  the  fact  that  the 
afternoon  was  waning.  It  shattered  the  trumpery  artifices 
with  which  he  tried  to  console  himself.  Yes,  all  was  lost! 

Then,  in  a  kind  of  panic,  he  hurriedly  retraced  his  steps. 
It  was  crazy  thus  to  abandon  Rye  Row,  and  wander  away 
from  his  one  possible  salvation.  He  must  station  himself 
near  Kittredge's  door  and  await  the  novelist's  return.  It 
would  be  a  forlorn  business,  and  depressing  alike  to  body 
and  soul,  but  he  couldn't  see  that  there  was  anything  else 
to  do.  He  loitered  about  the  street  for  an  hour,  occasionally 
resting  on  a  doorstep.  Whenever  he  attracted  too  much 
attention  he  would  move  on,  stop  at  the  end  of  the  street, 
and  forlornly  search  for  a  new  coign  of  vantage.  A  busy 
world  looks  askance  at  the  loafer,  and  instinctively  gives  him 
a  wide  berth.  A  shabby,  pale  man  with  nothing  to  do  ex- 
cept to  prowl  pertinaciously  up  and  down  an  honest  street! 
Embryo  criminal !  Area  sneak-thief !  Keep  the  chain  on  the 
door,  Mary! 

Kirk's  first  shame  gave  way  to  a  brazen  indifference. 
Let  them  stare  and  cackle ;  let  them  think  the  worst  of  him  ; 
let  them  take  in  the  canary  and  the  doormat!  He  was  too 
tired  to  care.  He  would  sit  on  their  doorsteps  and  passively 
defy  them.  When  ordered  off  one  he  would  choose  the  next, 
and  so  on,  if  need  be,  all  round  the  street !  But  it  was  weary 
work.  The  steps  were  hard.  The  monotony  grinding.  The 
day  without  an  end.  At  last,  determined  to  set  up  an  estab- 
lishment of  his  own,  and  be  beholden  to  no  one,  he  made  his 
way  to  a  shop  he  remembered  having  passed  previously,  and 

70 


THE   ADVENTURER 

bought  a  second-hand  camp  stool  for  one  and  eightpence.  A 
further  outlay  of  fourpence  halfpenny  made  him  the  possessor 
of  "  Zanoni,"  by  Bulwer  Lytton.  Thus  equipped,  he  re- 
turned to  Rye  Row,  and  preempted  a  bit  of  pavement  oppo- 
site number  eleven. 

This  new  departure  roused  Rye  Row  to  a  perfect  frenzy 
of  curiosity.  All  the  children  of  the  neighborhood  grouped 
themselves  about  him.  Grown-ups  emerged  from  houses  and 
forced  their  way  up  to  him,  breathing  on  his  neck,  and  read- 
ing snippets  of  "  Zanoni  "  over  his  shoulder.  There  was  a 
general  consensus  that  he  was  mad,  and  might  go  off  any  mo- 
ment in  a  homicidal  mania.  And  while  he  read  and  read, 
they  speculated  audibly  on  his  personal  appearance — on  the 
fact  that  he  seemed  also  deaf  and  dumb,  on  the  misfortune  that 
he  should  have  chosen  their  row  as  the  scene  of  his  sinister 
activities.  The  climax  was  reached  when  the  little  house- 
maid in  Kittredge's  house  came  over  to  him  with  what  she 
called  a  "  sangwich."  He  sheepishly  ate  his  "  sangwich  " 
while  everyone  looked  on  as  though  he  were  a  monkey  in  a 
zoo.  The  insiders  stared  unblinkingly ;  the  outsiders  giggled 
and  shoved.  The  passers-by  took  him  for  an  evangelist,  and 
those  who  had  the  time  and  inclination  waited  to  join  in 
the  hymn. 

The  individuals  changed,  but  the  crowd  remained.  The 
slow  hours  dragged  along,  dusk  came,  the  lamplighter  had 
made  his  rounds,  and  still  there  was  no  Kittredge  to  repay 
our  poor  friend  for  his  martyrdom.  But  night  brought 
relief  from  persecution  and  a  friend.  The  little  housemaid, 
after  a  battle  with  her  mother,  had  won  a  grudging  consent 
that  Kirk  should  be  allowed  to  bring  his  stool  into  the  area- 
way  of  number  eleven.  It  was  a  most  welcome  concession, 
and  bringing  with  it  another  "  sangwich,"  proved  to  be  a 
double  boon.  Here  in  a  dark  corner  he  camped  the  rest  of  the 

71 


THE   ADVENTURER 

evening,  shivering  in  the  raw  air  like  a  vagrant  dog.  But 
the  evening  was  as  profitless  as  the  afternoon,  and  by  eleven 
o'clock  Kirk  folded  up  his  stool,  stuck  "  Zanoni  "  in  his 
pocket,  and  stretching  his  cramped  limbs,  directed  himself 
to  find  a  shelter  for  the  night.  A  cabman  offered  to  drive 
him  to  a  place  where  he  could  get  a  good  comfortable  shake- 
down for  a  shilling.  Kirk  accepted  his  proposal  with  alac- 
rity, and,  after  a  short  drive,  found  himself  in  the  cabman's 
own  home  and  the  guest  of  his  "  Missis." 

It  was  a  good  enough  room,  and  the  people  looked 
honest.  Kirk  locked  his  door,  and  dragging  a  heavy  chest 
of  drawers  against  it,  tumbled  into  bed.  The  long,  long 
day  was  over,  with  all  its  disappointments,  its  weariness,  its 
vanished  hopes.  Kirk  closed  his  eyes,  and  floated  into  a 
better  country:  a  country  where  there  was  none  to  mock 
or  gibe;  a  country  in  which  hundred-pound  notes  were 
unknown  and  banks  existed  not  —  to  a  merciful  oblivion 
that  gives  us  strength  for  another  day,  and  the  courage  to 
suffer  and  endure. 

The  next  day,  after  a  hurried  breakfast,  Kirk  again 
sought  his  post.  Kittredge  had  not  returned,  nor  was  there 
any  word  from  him.  To  an  interminable  Monday  Kirk 
had  now  to  add  an  interminable  Tuesday.  But  there  were 
now  alleviations  that  he  had  not  enjoyed  the  day  before. 
The  privilege  of  the  area  gave  him  seclusion.  He  could 
read  his  book  in  peace,  and  smoke  his  pipe  in  undisturbed 
comfort.  "  The  time  of  day,"  as  it  was  called,  could  be 
exchanged  with  the  little  housemaid,  and  with  the  little 
housemaid's  dragon  mother.  The  vagrant  dog  got  a  few 
pats  on  the  head,  and  was  discovered  to  be  well-mannered 
and  grateful.  Kirk  was  given  a  slip  of  carpet  to  rest  his 
feet  on,  not  to  speak  of  Mr.  Kittredge's  morning  paper  to 
read.  His  sad  air,  his  dilapidated  appearance,  his  mournful 

72 


THE   ADVENTURER 

eyes,  attracted  a  sympathetic  attention.  The  little  housemaid 
became  as  eager  as  he  for  Kittredge  to  return,  which,  with 
the  positiveness  of  female  intuition,  she  declared  was  now 
surely  close  at  hand. 

But  alas  for  intuition !  The  morning  went,  and  no  Kitt- 
redge. Noon  came,  and  no  Kittredge.  Two,  three,  four, 
five  o'clock,  and  still  no  Kittredge.  The  short,  wintry  after- 
noon merged  itself  into  shadow,  and  the  lighted  lamp  showed 
a  figure  on  a  camp  stool,  sunk  like  a  Christian  martyr  in  a 
stone  cell,  waiting  spectrally  for  the  writer  to  return.  It  was 
seen  to  dine  on  a  "  sangwich."  It  was  seen  to  comfort  itself 
with  a  pipe.  It  was  seen  to  refuse  an  umbrella  from  the 
little  housemaid,  and  overheard  to  say  that  it  didn't  mind 
the  drizzle.  Bodily  ills  had  lost  all  power  to  hurt.  It  was 
the  mind  that  suffered  from  the  hammer,  hammer,  hammer 
of  one  idea  incessantly  repeated.  Oh,  that  Kittredge  would 
come!  Oh,  that  Kittredge  would  come! 

Night  found  Kirk  again  an  inmate  of  the  cabman's.  The 
hopelessness  and  desperation  of  his  position  kept  sleep  at  bay. 
What  if  Wednesday  came  and  there  was  still  no  Kittredge? 
Was  he  to  wait  with  folded  hands  while  Mr.  Smith  hoisted 
anchor  and  sailed  away  without  him  ?  Would  it  not  be  better 
to  go  straight  to  Mr.  Smith  and  tell  him  everything?  Test 
of  character,  indeed !  Was  he  not  perhaps  holding  too  slav- 
ishly to  the  letter  of  the  law,  while  as  a  matter  of  fact  he 
had  more  than  fulfilled  the  spirit?  He  had  his  hundred 
pounds  to  show.  Friendless,  penniless,  and  ragged,  he  had 
put  up  a  terrific  fight,  and  had  emerged  triumphant.  Surely 
this  would  count  in  his  favor?  Ought  it  not  to  count  even 
more  than  if  he  had  tamely  stuck  to  his  note,  and  as  tamely 
had  returned  it?  But  it  would  be  hard  to  gloss  over  the 
Kittredge  episode  to  Mr.  Smith.  The  eight  pounds  thus 
gained  had  been  at  the  cost  of  letting  Kittredge  into  the 

73 


THE  ADVENTURER 

secret.  Of  course  Kittredge  was  as  true  as  steel.  He 
could  trust  Kittredge  implicitly.  But  Mr.  Smith  might 
regard  it  very  differently.  "  Above  everything,  able  to 
hold  their  tongues,"  ran  the  advertisement.  It  was  con- 
ceivable that  Mr.  Smith  might  consider  this  a  more  serious 
dereliction  than  the  actual  loss  of  the  note  and  the  subsequent 
shortage.  Had  he  not,  perhaps,  been  an  awful  fool  to  try 
and  make  up  that  eight  pounds  at  all?  Would  it  not  have 
been  wiser  to  go  to  Mr.  Smith  direct? 

Who  could  say?  It  was  Scylla  and  Charybdis  all  over 
again.  Only  one  thing  shone  out  plainly — that  Mr.  Smith 
should  not  be  informed  that  the  secret  had  leaked  out.  Well, 
what  of  telling  the  truth — with  modifications?  A  rattling 
good  lie  that  would  explain  the  eight  pounds  without  com- 
promising him?  Say  an  advance  from  a  deep-water  ship? 
Or  consular  charity  ?  Or  saving  a  little  boy — a  sort  of  little 
Fauntleroy  in  a  lace  collar — from  being  run  over?  With 
subsequent  gratitude  and  largesse  on  the  part  of  parents  ?  He 
had  done  such  a  thing  once  in  San  Francisco,  and  with  this 
to  give  color  and  vivacity  to  his  yarn  might  he  not  draw  on 
his  imagination  for  the  rest  ?  The  real  little  boy  had  gasped 
and  disappeared,  leaving  Kirk  to  fight  a  teamster.  But  it 
was  worth  thinking  over  as  a  possible  expedient.  He  would 
think  it  over.  It  was  a  time  to  make  resolutions,  for  assur- 
edly he  had  sat  on  that  camp  stool  long  enough,  and  for 
good  or  evil  must  bring  things  to  a  head. 

The  next  morning,  fagged  and  dispirited,  he  returned  to 
Rye  Row.  It  was  impossible  to  arrive  at  any  resolution 
without  first  finding  out  whether  Kittredge  had  returned. 
His  plans  for  the  day  hinged  on  that.  He  knocked.  The 
little  housemaid  shook  her  head.  No  Kittredge! 

He  was  about  to  turn  away  when  a  hansom  sprang 
round  the  corner,  and  there  was  the  novelist  himself! 

74 


THE   ADVENTURER 

There  was  a  hurried,  friendly  greeting  on  the  curb. 
Kirk  poured  out  his  tale  of  woe.  The  little  housemaid 
beamed  from  the  doorway,  all  smiles.  Kittredge  showed  a 
beautiful  contrition.  He  insisted  on  taking  the  whole  dis- 
aster on  his  own  shoulders.  What  an  ass  he  had  been  not  to 
foresee  it  all.  Good  Heavens,  yes,  what  an  ass !  He  couldn't 
forgive  himself,  he  said.  Not  that  it  was  any  use  crying 
over  spilled  milk.  The  thing  to  do  was  to  get  that  hundred- 
pound  note  in  a  jiffy.  Oh,  the  banks  weren't  open  yet?  Gad, 
that  was  true,  wasn't  it?  But  there  were  clubs!  That  re- 
minded him  that  he  had  been  made  a  member  of  the  Athe- 
naeum. At  least  he  thought  he'd  been  made  a  member  of 
the  Athenaeum.  He  hadn't  opened  any  of  his  letters  for 
three  weeks,  and  was  consequently  hazy.  But  he  fancied 
he  remembered  one  with  the  name  of  the  Athenaeum  on  it. 
It  might  have  been  to  tell  him  that  he  was  blackballed.  But 
they'd  risk  it,  anyhow.  Yes,  the  Athenaeum  was  a  club. 
A  sort  of  bishops'  deadfall,  you  know,  where  they  could  take 
off  their  gaiters  and  play  pinochle.  Mostly  bishops,  with  a 
few  headliners  from  the  arts.  A  sort  of  concession  to  a 
democratic  age,  old  man. 

Kirk  jumped  in.  Kittredge  grabbed  a  bunch  of  tele- 
grams that  the  little  housemaid  handed  up.  Still  brightly 
talking  he  ordered  the  cabman  to  drive  to  the  Athenaeum, 
opening  the  envelopes  as  he  did  so,  and  throwing  them  into 
the  street.  He  remarked  that  it  was  a  telegraphic  age,  and 
that  the  only  use  for  letters  nowadays  was  as  a  vehicle  for 
checks.  Oh,  and  love  letters,  of  course!  Love  and  money 
needed  covers,  but  the  rest  of  the  world's  correspondence 
was  better  done  by  wire.  Kittredge  was  helping  this  modern 
tendency  by  ignoring  letters  altogether.  It  wouldn't  be  long 
before  everybody  would  follow  suit.  Though  he  himself 
would  probably  fall  a  martyr  to  progress,  the  penalty  of  all 
6  75 


THE   ADVENTURER 

reformers,  anyhow.  Hated  in  this  century,  and  canonized 
in  the  next ! 

It  was  exhilarating  to  sit  beside  this  wonderful  man — 
the  personification  of  success — and  warm  oneself  in  his  kind- 
ness and  geniality.  Kirk's  spirits  rose.  It  was  impossible 
to  resist  such  charm  and  gayety.  He  even  gave  a  humorous 
description  of  himself  sitting  on  a  camp  stool  and  reading 
11  Zanoni."  In  the  retrospect  it  seemed  extraordinarily  laugh- 
able. Kittredge  laughed  over  it,  too,  and  said  he  would 
put  it  in  a  story.  Two  days  in  an  area  reading  "  Zanoni  " ! 
That  was  real  life  for  you — the  thing  a  fellow  couldn't 
invent.  A  writer  had  to  stick  to  life  as  a  drowning  man 
to  an  oar.  Get  away  from  life,  and  you  are  lost — you  sink — 
leaving  only  bubbles  to  show  where  you  had  been.  That 
was  his,  Kittredge's,  present  danger.  Oh,  yes,  he  knew  it! 
Feared  it!  The  tendency  of  success  to  surround  itself  with 
walls  and  keep  life  out — the  real,  palpitating  life  of  the 
people.  Put  a  butler  between  you  and  the  world,  and  as  a 
novelist  you  committed  suicide.  Take  them  all — good  men 
butlered  to  death,  everyone — atrophied  into  old  leather,  and 
repeating  themselves  like  phonographs.  Except  the  daring 
few,  like  Tolstoi  for  instance,  or  Hardy,  or  Loti,  who  had 
the  manhood  to  resist  the  Capuas  of  fame. 

All  this  while  they  were  bowling  briskly  through  the 
streets,  with  a  rattle  of  glass  and  a  jingle  of  harness  that  often 
interrupted  the  novelist's  tirade.  His  exuberant  humor  was 
contagious,  and  Kirk  seemed  to  rub  off  something  of  his 
companion's  freedom  and  light-heartedness.  The  belated 
appointment,  the  precariousness  of  his  position,  all  his  re- 
cent misgivings  and  terrors,  troubled  him  no  longer.  He 
was  content  to  smile  and  blindly  share  the  conviction 
of  security  and  good  fortune  that  animated  the  man  be- 
side him.  All  would  come  right — he  knew  not  how  or 


THE   ADVENTURER 

wherefore — but  Kittredge  had  ordained  it  so,  and  that  was 
enough. 

They  drew  up  before  the  haunt  of  bishops,  and  Kittredge 
went  in,  taking  with  him  Kirk's  hundred  pounds.  A  few 
minutes  later  he  reappeared,  looking  rather  crestfallen.  Kirk 
steeled  himself  against  disappointment,  and  assuming  that 
his  friend  had  failed,  proposed  to  drive  on  to  one  of  the  big 
hotels. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  Kittredge,  handing  over  a 
note.  He  smiled  ruefully.  "  I've  paid  blood  for  that,"  he 
went  on.  "  The  office  didn't  have  such  a  thing  as  a  hundred- 
pound  note,  and  I  was  just  about  to  leave  when  Sir  Cor- 
nelius Blum  turned  up — the  biggest  bore  in  London,  you 
know — famous  heavyweight  conversationalist — social  steam- 
roller. Well,  he  had  one — a  hundred-pound  note,  I  mean 
— and  I  couldn't  get  it  away  from  him  without  promising 
to  dine  at  his  house  and  read  one  of  my  stories  aloud !  The 
old  wretch  knew  that  he  had  me  on  the  hip,  and  wouldn't 
fork  out  till  everything  had  been  signed  and  sealed!  Oh, 
Diamond,  Diamond,  you  know  not  what  you've  done !  " 

Kirk  expressed  his  regrets. 

"  Well,  it  can't  be  helped,"  exclaimed  the  novelist,  and 
fell  into  a  profound  melancholy. 

The  cabman  broke  into  it  by  inquiring  where  he  was  to 
drive  next. 

Kittredge  woke  up. 

"  I'll  drop  you  at  the  end  of  your  street,"  he  said  dis- 
mally to  Kirk.  Whatdyecallum  Street  where  you  were  to 
meet  Mr.  Thingabob." 

"  Tedworth  Street,"  put  in  Kirk.     "  Number  82." 

Off  they  clattered  again,  Kittredge  somewhat  silent,  Kirk 
jubilant,  and  squeezing  the  note  as  though  it  were  the  hand 
of  a  long-lost  sweetheart.  He  was  still  in  the  mood  of 

77 


THE   ADVENTURER 

exultation.  The  last  of  his  cares  had  disappeared.  After 
incalculable  difficulties,  and  misfortune  on  top  of  misfor- 
tune, here  he  was  at  last  driving  blithely  to  success  and 
glory. 

The  novelist,  rankling  with  memories  of  Sir  Cornelius 
Blum,  and  bitter  with  the  thought  of  that  impending  dinner, 
could  not  resist  the  impulse  to  take  him  down  a  peg. 

"  You're  three  days  late,"  he  said.  "  They  may  have 
bounced  you  for  all  you  know !  " 

But  Kirk's  soaring  spirit  refused  to  droop.  He  laughed 
away  the  suggestion.  He  emphatically  pointed  out  that  in 
an  enterprise  of  such  evident  magnitude,  three  days  were  as 
nothing. 

"  I'm  not  afraid  of  that,"  he  said. 

"  It  would  be  a  joke  on  you  if  they  had  kept  the  num- 
ber of  the  note !  "  said  Kittredge,  with  a  twinkle  of  his 
specs.  "  It  isn't  very  probable,  but  you'd  better  be  prepared 
for  it." 

Kirk's  consternation  provoked  an  immense  mirth  in  his 
companion.  Kittredge  laughed  and  laughed.  Then,  with  a 
delightful  cordiality,  he  patted  Kirk  on  the  knee  and  told 
him  that  he  was  only  teasing. 

"  You're  all  right,  old  fellow,"  he  said.  "  The  sort  of 
men  they're  getting  aren't  likely  to  have  extra  hundred-pound 
notes.  It's  the  very  fact  that  they  haven't  that  makes  the 
test  a  test.  They  knew  you  only  had  a  few  shillings  in  your 
pocket,  and  the  idea  was  to  put  a  big  temptation  in  your 
way.  I  only  said  it  because  you  looked  so  silly  and  satisfied 
— a  sort  of  kitten-and-cream  expression,  you  know." 

But  Humpty-Dumpty  once  fallen  would  not  so  easily  be 
set  up  again.  Kirk  worried  horribly,  and  insisted  on  seri- 
ously debating  the  possibilities  of  such  an  unforeseen  disaster. 
The  novelist  had  to  work  like  a  Trojan  to  undo  the  harm 

78 


THE   ADVENTURER 

his  chance  remark  had  caused.  They  were  still  deep  in  the 
discussion  when  the  cabman  drew  up  in  front  of  82  Ted- 
worth  Street. 

"  Good  luck,  old  fellow,"  cried  Kittredge,  warmly  shak- 
ing Kirk  by  the  hand.  "I'll  back  you  to  win  any  day. 
Come  around  to-night  or  to-morrow  and  tell  me  all  about 
it.  Ta-ta,  and  may  God  love  you,  and  not  call  for  you  too 
soon!" 

He  drove  away,  leaving  Kirk  standing  on  the  pavement 
in  a  state  of  painful  excitement.  The  house  looked  extraor- 
dinarily still  and  deserted.  The  drawn  blinds,  the  all-per- 
vading dust,  the  unlived-in  air — somehow  daunted  him,  and 
disinclined  him  to  hurry.  Vague  and  fanciful  terrors  beset 
him.  What  if  no  one  should  answer  his  knock?  What  if, 
indeed,  the  three  days'  delay  had  been  fatal?  What  if  the 
whole  mysterious  enterprise  had  as  mysteriously  flown,  leav- 
ing no  trace  but  this  desolate  shell?  Conquering  his  irreso- 
lution, he  walked  up  the  steps  and  knocked.  He  wondered 
if  the  dazzling  housemaid  would  admit  him.  Hoped  ex- 
ceedingly that  she  would.  Knocked  again — louder,  more 
peremptorily.  How  slow  they  were!  It  was  cruel  to  keep 
him  standing  there.  'Bang,  bang,  bang!  He  listened  vainly 
for  the  sound  of  footsteps  within.  Bang,  bang,  bang — with 
an  increasing  irritation,  blended  with  fear.  Bang,  bang, 
bang,  BANG!  A  passer-by  stopped  and  stared  at  him  curi- 
ously. Kirk  assumed  an  easy  attitude — pretended  to  him- 
self that  he  was  delivering  a  parcel,  and  tried  to  act  the  part. 
Whistled,  gazed  up  and  down  the  street,  knocked  some  more. 
Waited,  whistled  again,  yawned,  till  the  passer-by  wearied 
of  watching  him  and  continued  on  his  way. 

Kirk  discovered  a  bell  that  could  be  rung.  So  he  rang 
it — rang  and  knocked,  alternatively.  Still  nothing  happened. 
The  heavy  door  refused  to  open.  He  tried  its  knob  on  the 

79 


THE   ADVENTURER 

bare  possibility  of  its  being  unlocked.  But  it  wasn't  un- 
locked. On  the  contrary,  it  seemed  not  only  locked,  but 
bolted.  He  shook  it  angrily,  venting  his  ill  humor  on  it. 
Added  a  kick.  Rang,  knocked,  shook  it  again.  Then,  con- 
scious that  he  was  attracting  too  much  attention,  and  not 
knowing  what  else  to  do,  he  descended  the  steps  and  walked 
away. 

An  idea  came  to  him  to  attack  the  premises  from  the 
rear.  He  remembered  the  little  alley  out  on  which  he  had 
looked  the  day  of  his  first  appointment.  He  discovered  it 
without  difficulty.  It  was  an  empty  little  alley :  brick  walls 
on  either  side  of  him;  no  danger  of  detection  save  from  the 
rear  windows  of  the  adjacent  houses.  He  searched  them  for  a 
possible  spy,  and  then  relieved,  considered  the  wall.  It  wasn't 
much  of  a  wall — eight  feet  high  or  so — and  the  contractor 
had  stinted  the  glass  that  was  supposed  to  defy  the  burglar. 
Kirk  found  a  likely  place  to  set  his  foot  in,  rose,  and  with 
a  sailor's  nimbleness  climbed  over  and  dropped  inside.  A 
door  gave  access  to  the  kitchen.  It  was  locked,  of  course. 
All  the  lower  windows  were  barred  with  iron.  But  one  on 
the  floor  above  was  unprotected,  and  Kirk  saw  he  could  easily 
reach  it  by  getting  on  the  roof  of  a  lean-to  shed  that  appar- 
ently had  been  used  to  keep  bicycles  in.  Bicycles  and  flower 
pots,  to  judge  from  a  very  cursory  inspection  of  its  interior. 
A  minute  later  he  was  standing  on  the  roof  examining  the 
window.  It  presented  no  difficulties  save  the  intangible  ones 
of  the  British  Constitution  and  outraged  law.  Visions  of 
penal  servitude  caused  Kirk  to  turn  his  head  and  carefully 
scan  the  neighboring  houses.  Reassured,  he  knocked  out  an 
upper  pane,  undid  the  catch,  raised  the  sash,  and  slipped 
into  the  silent  house. 

It  was  dark  and  ghostly.  The  shrouded  twilight  was 
only  just  sufficient  to  permit  him  to  advance  without  groping. 

80 


THE  ADVENTURER 

The  boards  creaked  under  him,  and  the  house  became  alive 
with  disconcerting  echoes.  He  could  not  resist  a  feeling  of 
awe,  of  danger,  of  unwarranted  intrusion  that  might  at  any 
moment  be  summarily  avenged  from  some  dim  recess  or 
black  passageway.  He  walked  warily,  ready  to  spring  back, 
ready  to  clench  his  fists  and  defend  himself.  It  was  hard 
to  resist  the  impression  that  he  was  attacking,  and  others 
waiting  to  defend,  the  citadel  of  mystery  in  which  he  had 
so  recklessly  set  his  foot.  Through  the  profound  gloom 
eyes  seemed  to  watch  him,  and  shadowy  figures  rustled  as 
they  closed  on  the  line  of  his  retreat. 

Swallowing  his  fears,  he  tiptoed  forward.  He  opened  a 
door  and  stepped  out  on  the  stairway.  It  was  the  stairway 
up  which  he  had  been  led  on  the  day  he  had  been  given  the 
hundred-pound  note.  He  resolved  to  find  the  very  room 
that  Mr.  Smith  had  occupied — Mr.  Smith  and  the  little 
imperturbable  doctor.  Here  was  the  likeliest  place  to  find 
some  clew  to  put  him  on  their  track — a  card,  an  addressed 
envelope,  or  some  fallen  trifle  that  the  detectives  of  fiction 
were  wont  to  make  such  good  use  of.  He  was  much  less 
sure  of  his  own  ability  in  this  direction.  Indeed,  his  only 
hope  was  that  Mr.  Smith's  flitting  had  been  unexpected, 
that  it  had  been  a  case  of  grab  and  run,  that  the  table 
might  still  be  piled  with  memoranda,  notebooks,  and 
what  not,  all  precipitately  abandoned  for  him  to  pounce 
on  now. 

He  entered  the  room,  and  going  to  the  window  raised 
the  blind  an  inch.  The  flooding  light  revealed  it  much  as  it 
had  been  before.  There  was  the  table,  there  the  three  cheap 
chairs,  there  the  butts  of  Mr.  Smith's  cigars.  The  table 
was  littered  with  papers.  Ink,  penholders,  black  blotters, 
and  a  calendar — all  set  out  in  the  orderly  confusion  that 
attends  the  desk  of  a  busy  man.  In  fact,  the  position  of 

81 


THE  ADVENTURER 

Dr.  Jones's  chair  suggested  that  he  had  pushed  it  back,  and 
had  risen  in  the  midst  of  his  work,  little  realizing  the  call 
that  was  to  take  him  away  forever.  Kirk  seated  himself 
in  the  chair  and  began  to  examine  the  papers  with  avidity. 
The  first  was  a  notebook.  He  hurriedly  turned  over  the 
pages.  Blank,  blank,  blank,  every  one.  Then  he  applied 
himself  to  an  assortment  of  loose  sheets.  There  was  not  a 
word  on  any  of  them.  Not  a  single  word — not  even  a  blot. 
But  there  were  more  notebooks,  more  papers.  These,  too, 
revealed  the  same  emptiness  of  white  paper.  All  had  been 
sifted  over,  and  there  was  not  one  that  bore  so  much  as  the 
scratch  of  a  pen. 

His  perplexed  eyes  at  length  settled  themselves  on  the 
grate.  Here,  indeed,  was  a  partial  solution  of  the  puzzle. 
The  grate  was  black  with  burned  manuscript — the  crisp, 
crinkled  remainders  of  what  once  had  been  written  sheets. 
On  some  the  ink  still  shone,  to  tantalize  him  on  closer  in- 
spection with  whole  sentences  that  at  a  distance  seemed 
easily  decipherable.  He  knelt  down,  only  to  discover  that  he 
could  not  make  out  a  single  word.  The  detective  of  fiction 
would  have  had  a  microscope,  or  some  admirable  self-invented 
means  to  aid  him.  But  Kirk  hadn't.  He  could  only  stare 
dismally,  and  poke  a  finger  through  the  incinerated  mass, 
which  thereupon  crumbled  into  dust.  Like  a  pricked  bubble 
it  fell  to  nothing,  and  the  elusive  words  vanished  forever 
from  his  ken. 

He  got  up  and  set  himself  to  search  the  whole  room 
minutely.  He  ripped  up  the  chairs,  and  tapped  the  table 
legs  on  the  approved  principles  of  Gaboriau.  But  the  ap- 
proved principles  didn't  help  him.  The  chairs,  of  a  plain, 
British,  kitchen  variety,  held  no  secrets  in  their  rush  bot- 
toms. The  table  legs  were  solid  and  equally  sincere.  The 
blotters,  being  black,  were  likewise  uncommunicative.  The 

82 


THE   ADVENTURER 

floor  was  a  richer  field  of  research.  Here  were  cigar  butts 
and  match  ends  in  profusion.  Also  a  shoelace.  Also  a 
crumpled-up  telegraph  form — blank. 

'But  there  were  other  rooms.  He  would  not  despair  yet. 
He  would  ransack  the  whole  house  from  top  to  bottom. 
And  this  he  did,  beginning  at  the  garret,  and  working  down 
with  feverish  thoroughness.  It  was  depressingly  easy.  They 
were  all  as  bare  as  a  bone.  The  tenants  previous  to  Mr. 
Smith  appeared  to  be  of  that  self-respecting  class  who  pride 
themselves  on  leaving  a  clean  house  behind  them.  There 
was  no  rubbish  to  paw  over,  no  closets  crammed  with  trash. 
Nothing  but  the  inevitable  dust  that  had  filtered  in,  impal- 
pable, resistless,  unseen,  to  glaze  the  floors  and  settle  thickly 
on  mantelpieces  and  gas  fixtures. 

When  at  last  the  task  was  over,  Kirk  had  to  admit  that 
he  was  defeated.  The  room  upstairs — the  room  with  the 
three  chairs,  the  table,  and  the  choked  grate — seemed  the  only 
one  that  Smith  &  Co.  had  ever  inhabited,  if,  indeed,  the  word 
inhabited  could  be  applied  to  the  use  they  had  put  it  to. 
He  decided  to  examine  it  again  on  the  unlikely  contingency 
that  he  had  overlooked  something.  He  couldn't  remember 
that  he  had,  but  it  would  be  a  satisfaction  to  make  certain, 
So  he  went  up  again,  and  allowing  himself  the  privilege  of 
a  better  light,  began  anew. 

Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  his  work,  he  was  startled  by  a 
terrific  rat-a-tat-tat  at  the  front  door.  It  resounded  through 
the  empty  house  like  claps  of  thunder.  He  caught  his  breath. 
He  had  the  sensation  of  being  detected  in  some  awful  crime. 
Were  the  police  breaking  in?  Was  the  door  falling  before 
their  axes?  Ought  he  to  fly  to  the  garret,  or  boldly  make 
a  break  for  it  by  the  way  he  came  ? 

But  his  moment  of  panic  passed.  He  was  in  a  tight 
place,  and  needed  all  his  wits  about  him.  Tense  and  alert, 

83 


THE   ADVENTURER 

he  ran  to  the  window,  threw  it  wide  open,  and  gazed  down 
into  the  street. 

What  he  saw  was  a  postman  descending  the  steps  of 
No.  82,  bearing  a  bulky  packet  of  letters  in  his  hand! 
An  unmistakable  British  postman,  ambling  toward  the  next 
house  on  his  round  of  deliveries! 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IRK  hastily  closed  the  window  and  withdrew 
into  the  center  of  the  room.  He  was  ashamed 
to  think  how  he  had  been  fooled,  how  his 
imagination  had  exaggerated  those  innocent 
knocks  into  veritable  thunders.  Police — 
axes — good  heavens,  what  tricks  one's  nerves  could  play! 
It  was  the  gravelike  stillness  of  the  house  that  had  preyed 
upon  him — that  and  its  mysteries,  which  he  had  set  him- 
self so  unavailingly  to  solve.  Then  all  at  once  it  came 
over  him  that  perhaps  the  postman  had  shot  some  letters 
through  the  slit  of  the  door.  This  natural  concomitant  of 
his  knock  struck  Kirk  with  the  suddenness  of  a  revelation. 
Of  course  that  was  why  he  had  knocked — that  was  why  any 
postman  knocked — knocked — to  deliver  letters ! 

Kirk  raced  down  the  stairs  three  steps  at  a  time.  He 
reached  the  main  floor  at  a  jump,  and  flew  to  the  little  cage 
that  hung  suspended  to  the  front  door.  Yes,  within  it  was 
a  letter,  glimmering  whitely  through  the  bars!  He  had  it 
out  in  a  second,  and  carried  it  to  the  nearest  window,  where, 
intercepting  a  leak  of  light  in  the  closely  drawn  blinds,  he 
feverishly  made  out  the  address: 

/.  H.  Tregurtha,  Esq., 
82  Ted-worth  St., 

W. 
85 


THE   ADVENTURER 

In  the  corner  of  the  envelope,  boldly  printed  in  red  ink 
was: 

JAFFRAY  &  THATCHER, 
House  Agents, 

807  Marylebone  Road,  W. 

The  detective  of  fiction  would  have  made  no  bones  of 
tearing  it  open  with  a  yell  of  triumph.  But  Kirk,  though 
he  had  wandered  very  far  from  the  station  in  life  in  which 
he  had  been  born  and  bred,  had  yet  the  repugnance  of  a 
gentleman  to  prying  into  other  people's  correspondence. 
Though  he  was  on  fire  with  curiosity,  the  promptings  of 
honor  withheld  his  itching  fingers.  He  turned  the  letter 
over  and  over  in  his  hand,  as  much  teased  as  a  famished 
setter  with  a  duck.  But  the  temptation  was  irresistible.  It 
wasn't  in  human  nature  not  to  fall  before  it.  Somehow 
the  letter  came  open,  he  hardly  knew  how.  Conscience  pro- 
tested, but  the  deed  was  done  nevertheless. 

It  was  a  curt  epistle,  in  a  round,  undistinguished  clerk's 
hand. 

Jaflray  &  Thatcher,  House  Agents, 
807  Marylebone  Road,  W. 

November  5th,  189 — 
].  H.  TREGURTHA,  Esq., 

DEAR  SIR:  The  gas  company  informs  us  that  there  is  a  small 
charge  against  you  of  35.  lod.  for  gas  consumed  during  your  one 
month's  occupancy  of  82  Ted  worth  Street.  Kindly  remit  the 
amount  to  this  office  at  your  early  convenience,  and  believe  us  to  be, 

dear  sir, 

Yours  respectfully, 

JAFFRAY  &  THATCHER, 

Per  N.  T.  R. 
86 


THE   ADVENTURER 

Kirk  hugged  himself  at  his  good  fortune.  Here  again 
was  a  rift  in  the  best-laid  plans  of  mice  and  men.  A  trifling 
gas  bill,  incurred  and  forgotten,  had  stultified  all  those 
elaborate  precautions  that  had  thus  far  succeeded  in  keeping 
Kirk  without  a  clew.  Burned  papers,  aliases,  mysterious 
rendezvous,  had  been  all  in  vain.  J.  H.  Tregurtha  was  of 
course  Mr.  Smith!  Five  minutes  with  the  directory  would 
discover  his  address.  Kirk  was  now  to  windward  of  the 
whole  affair,  and  the  rest  was  but  seamanship  and  clever 
handling. 

He  lost  no  time  in  getting  out  of  the  house,  returning 
as  he  came  by  the  roof  of  the  shed.  At  a  chemist's  shop, 
for  a  charge  of  one  penny,  he  was  permitted  to  examine  the 
directory,  which  was  chained  up  like  a  dog,  as  though  other- 
wise it  might  bolt  out  of  the  door  and  incontinently  disap- 
pear. He  ran  his  finger  down  the  column  of  Tre-s  with  a 
trembling  of  eagerness.  After  all,  it  was  only  a  presumption 
that  the  man  he  sought  lived  in  London.  Then  the  name 
swam  before  him  in  the  small  mean  type  of  the  densely  printed 
page.  The  right  name,  the  right  initials,  startling  the  eye 
as  though  written  in  fire! 

"  Tregurtha,  J.  H.f  Solicitor,  719  Chancery  Lane,  E.  C." 

Kirk  took  the  first  hansom,  and  giving  this  address  to 
the  cabman,  was  rapidly  borne  toward  his  destination.  His 
brain  was  in  a  whirl.  He  hardly  knew  what  he  meant  to 
say  to  Mr.  Tregurtha.  To  find  him  was  the  great  thing — 
to  find  and  confront  him!  Chancery  Lane  was  so  nar- 
row, and  the  houses  on  either  hand  so  high  and  dark,  that 
it  was  with  the  sensation  of  entering  a  cellar  that  Kirk 
turned  into  it  out  of  Holborn,  and  shivered  in  a  chilly  gust 
that  struck  him  to  the  marrow  of  his  bones. 

At  last  they  drew  up  before  a  dingy  doorway.  Kirk 
paid  the  cabman  and  ran  in,  stopping  to  run  his  eyes  over 

87 


THE   ADVENTURER 

the  series  of  brass  plates  that  bore,  in  decaying  letters  from 
which  the  paint  had  long  since  fled,  the  names  of  the  occu- 
pants of  No.  719.  On  one  of  them  was  J.  H.  Tregur- 
tha,  Solicitor,  second  floor.  Mounting  the  stairs,  and  di- 
rected thither  by  a  passing  messenger,  he  at  length  reached 
a  glazed  door  on  which  there  was  a  similar  legend.  He  was 
about  to  knock  when  the  door  opened  of  itself,  and  he  found 
himself  face  to  face  with  Mr.  Smith! 

If  Kirk  were  surprised,  it  would  require  a  stronger  term 
to  do  justice  to  Mr.  Smith's  expression.  Discomposure, 
stupefaction  even,  was  written  on  those  rosy  features.  He 
started  violently  and  fell  back,  still  staring  at  Kirk  as  though 
he  could  not  believe  his  eyes.  Kirk  took  in  the  fact  that  he 
was  handsomely  dressed  in  conventional  afternoon  costume 
— frock  coat,  silk  hat,  immaculate  white  waistcoat,  faultless 
trousers,  and  a  rich  dark  tie  held  in  place  by  a  circlet  of 
pearls — glossy,  well  groomed,  almost  bandboxy.  A  singu- 
lar metamorphosis  indeed,  from  the  Mr.  Smith  of  the  thread- 
bare tweeds  and  the  dirty  collar. 

Kirk  was  about  to  speak  when  Mr.  Smith  stopped  him 
with  a  warning  gesture. 

"  Don't  talk  here,"  he  said.  "  Come  inside  to  my  private 
office,"  and  with  that  he  led  the  way  within. 

Kirk  found  himself  in  a  large  apartment,  furnished  in 
a  key  of  gloomy  splendor.  Thick  carpets,  heavy  substantial 
mahogany  furniture,  framed  steel  engravings — all  guarded 
from  intrusion  by  a  little  fence  that  ran  the  length  of  the 
room,  over  which  a  kitten  could  have  jumped  without  the 
slightest  difficulty.  Two  clerks  on  stools  were  busy  scrib- 
bling in  a  corner.  Another  was  at  work  at  a  typewriter. 
Seated  before  an  imposing  desk,  and  deep  in  the  perusal 
of  some  law  books,  was  an  elderly  little  man  of  the  head- 
clerk  variety,  who  rose  deferentially  as  Mr.  Smith  appeared, 

88 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  Please  see  that  I'm  not  disturbed,  Mr.  Timms,"  said 
Mr.  Smith,  in  a  tone  of  unquestioned  authority.  "  If  any- 
thing should  come  up,  let  Mr.  Standing  attend  to  it." 

He  then  beckoned  to  Kirk,  and  opening  a  door  marked 
"  private,"  gravely  ushered  him  into  a  smaller  office.  Here, 
in  a  cosier  atmosphere  than  the  one  he  had  left,  Kirk  was 
bidden  to  take  an  armchair,  while  Mr.  Smith,  after  care- 
fully locking  the  door,  drew  up  another  close  beside  him. 

"  Now,  my  dear  man,"  he  said,  with  some  return  to  his 
ordinary  breezy  and  good-natured  manner,  "  you  have  man- 
aged to  drive  a  four-in-hand  through  a  secret  we  thought 
we  had  guarded  very  carefully.  I  will  be  quite  frank  with 
you,  and  will  admit  that  I  regret  it  exceedingly.  Not  that 
you  can  do  us  any  harm,  if  such  by  any  chance  should  be 
your  intention.  Yes,  my  true  name  is  Tregurtha — well — 
and  what  of  it  ?  " 

Kirk  was  embarrassed  by  this  somewhat  provocative  ad- 
dress. The  tone,  though  kind,  bore  an  underlying  threat. 
Mr.  Smith — or  rather  Tregurtha — was  plainly  ill  at  ease, 
and  appeared  to  be  arming  himself  for  a  disagreeable  inter- 
view. 

"  It's  none  of  my  business  who  you  are,"  said  Kirk  with 
spirit.  "  I  haven't  the  remotest  intention  of  doing  you  any 
harm.  My  only  desire  is,  as  it  always  has  been,  to  enroll 
myself  in  your  undertaking,  and  explain  why  I  failed  to 
keep  my  appointment." 

Thus  speaking,  he  laid  down  the  hundred-pound  note. 

Mr.  Tregurtha  showed  no  interest  in  it. 

"  My  dear  man,"  he  said,  "  you're  just  three  days  too 
late!" 

"Too  late!"  cried  Kirk. 

"  Too  late,"  repeated  Mr.  Tregurtha  coolly. 

"Then  what  am  I  to  do?" 
89 


THE  ADVENTURER 

Tregurtha  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"  You've  made  a  hundred  pounds,"  he  observed.  "  Your 
time  wasn't  altogether  wasted.  I  would  suggest  that  you 
go  away  and  spend  it — and,  if  you'll  do  me  a  favor,  keep 
the  thing  out  of  the  newspapers.  My  principals  would  re- 
sent any  publicity,  and  blame  me  for  the  leakage.  Though, 
of  course,  if  it  should  become  common  property,  I  would 
have  no  hesitation  in  giving  you  the  lie,  and  denying  it 
in  toto." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Tregurtha,  you're  mistaking  the  kind  of  man 
I  am."  Kirk's  voice  was  full  of  pleading,  and  a  convincing 
sincerity  animated  his  handsome  face.  "  I  have  set  my  heart 
on  this  thing.  You've  told  me  yourself  that  I'm  the  very 
kind  you  want.  Don't  throw  me  over  without  at  least  lis- 
tening to  my  story — to  my  explanations.  After  all,  though 
I  do  say  it  myself,  I  am  too  good  to  lose.  I  have  grit  and 
loyalty,  and  the  fact  that  I  have  successfully  tracked  you 
down  ought  to  be  a  proof,  at  any  rate,  of  my  intelligence." 

Mr.  Tregurtha  smilingly  conceded  the  point. 

"  That's  the  hardest  part  of  it,"  he  said  at  last.  "  You 
were  preeminently  the  type  of  man  we  wanted — and  wanted 
badly.  I  am  not  penalizing  you  for  failing  in  your  appoint- 
ment. I  wouldn't  let  a  trifle  like  that  stand  in  the  road. 
You  see " 

He  stopped  abruptly. 

"Well?"  inquired  Kirk. 

"  Oh,  you're  too  late,  my  dear  man.  The  whole  business 
has  now  passed  out  of  my  hands.  I  couldn't  help  you  if  I 
would!" 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  are  not  the  leader?  That  hon- 
estly and  truly  your  position  was  only  that  of  a  subordinate?  " 

"  Precisely." 

"  And  that  now,  having  accomplished  the  duty  you  were 
90 


THE   ADVENTURER 

entrusted  with,  others  are  carrying  the  enterprise  to  the  next 
stage?" 

"  That  is  it  exactly." 

"  And  the  present  interview  between  us  is  simply  to  per- 
suade me  to  hold  my  tongue,  and  not  give  away  the  little  I 
already  know?  " 

"  You  couldn't  put  it  better." 

"  Of  course,  I  wouldn't  do  that,"  continued  Kirk. 
"  You've  treated  me  with  a  great  deal  of  consideration. 
You've  made  me  a  present  of  a  hundred  pounds.  I  will  only 
ask  you  to  make  some  allowances  for  a  deeply  disappointed 
man.  I  don't  want  to  flatter  you,  but  you've  made  me  feel 
that  anything  you  are  connected  with  is  bound  to  be  worth 
while.  To  lose  my  chance  now  is  almost  more  than  I  can 
bear." 

Mr.  Tregurtha  sighed.  His  face  was  all  sympathy  and 
kindness.  His  regret  was  unfeigned. 

"  Too  bad — too  bad,"  he  murmured. 

"  Now,  see  here,"  went  on  Kirk  with  increasing  con- 
fidence, "  you  must  do  me  a  good  turn.  You  must  move 
heaven  and  earth.  You  must  pitchfork  me  in  somehow.  I 
have  the  will;  you  must  find  the  way!  " 

"  The  steamer  left  two  days  ago!  " 

No  sooner  had  he  said  this  than  he  looked  as  though  he 
would  have  gladly  recalled  it.  His  mouth  tightened,  the 
kindness  died  out  of  his  eyes.  He  had  plainly  made  a  slip, 
and  was  pulling  himself  together  to  undo  his  blunder. 

He  waited  keenly,  defensively,  for  Kirk  to  take  advan- 
tage of  his  remark. 

"Don't  be  afraid,   Mr.   Tregurtha,"  said  Kirk.     "If 

it's  to  be  a  duel  between  us,  I  know  well  enough  that  I  will 

lose.     I  won't  ask  any  questions  about  that  steamer,  or  try 

to  crowbar  my  way  into  your  secret.    I'd  do  that  fast  enough 

7  91 


THE   ADVENTURER 

if  I  thought  I  could  succeed.  But  I  know  I  can't.  My  only 
hope  is  to  throw  myself  on  your  generosity.  To  beg — not 
extort." 

Tregurtha  did  not  change  a  muscle  of  his  face.  Then 
he  rose,  still  silent,  and  walked  about  the  room  in  the  sham- 
bling, aimless  fashion  that  helps  some  men  to  think.  He 
returned  and  sat  down  again,  crossing  his  fat  legs. 

"  Will  you  take  a  gamble  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"A  gamble?" 

"  I  can  offer  you  a  bare  possibility.  It  involves  a  long 
journey,  very  likely  for  nothing — a  journey  in  the  dark.  You 
will  arrive  at  a  certain  place,  a  town,  and  there  you  will 
wait  for  at  least  ten  days.  Perhaps  instructions  may  reach 
you — perhaps  they  may  not.  If  my  principals  want  you 
they  will  certainly  find  you.  Do  not  fear  about  that  part 
of  it — they  will  find  you,  wherever  you  are.  But  if  they 
don't  want  you,  you  will  hear  nothing  from  them.  At  the 
expiration  of  ten  days  you  may  consider  yourself  free  of  the 
whole  affair.  You  will  understand  that  your  services  have 
not  been  required.  This  is  all  the  assurance  I  can  give  you. 
It  is  what  sportsmen  would  call  a  long  shot — a  ten  to  one. 
No,  a  hundred  to  one!  A  chance  so  slight  that  were  I  in 
your  place  I  would  absolutely  not  consider  it.  'But  it  is  a 
chance — and  will  you  take  it  ?  " 

"  I'll  take  anything,"  said  Kirk  comprehensively. 

"  And  you  will  not  consider  yourself  tricked — got  rid  of 
— sent  on  a  fool's  errand — if  no  call  is  made  on  you,  and 
you  find  yourself  in  a  distant  country,  as  ignored,  as  appar- 
ently forgotten,  as  though  you  were  the  victim  of  some 
deliberate  deception?" 

The  two  men's  eyes  met.  Was  Tregurtha  sincere,  or 
was  his  proposal  a  masterpiece  of  duplicity?  A  scheme  de- 
signed to  get  rid  of  him  finally,  completely,  and  forever? 

92 


THE   ADVENTURER 

Kirk  was  at  a  loss  to  decide.  His  whole  instinct  was  to  be- 
lieve; yet  years  of  contact  with  the  seamy  side  of  life  coun- 
seled caution. 

"  That's  all  I  can  do,"  added  Tregurtha.  "  Take  it,  or 
leave  it." 

"  Mr.  Tregurtha,"  said  Kirk,  "  have  I  that  on  your 
sacred  word  of  honor?  " 

The  solicitor  solemnly  raised  his  hand. 

"  Indeed  you  have,"  he  remarked.  "  I  pledge  you  my 
honor.  And  I  will  only  repeat  that  you  must  not  misjudge 
me  if  you  fail." 

"That's  understood,"  said  Kirk.  "Only  I  wish  you 
could  see  your  way — without  violating  the  confidence  of  your 
principals — to  enlighten  me  as  to  the  general  nature  of  the 
enterprise.  I  mean,"  he  continued  quickly,  as  a  shadow 
passed  over  Tregurtha's  face,  "  I  mean,  is  it  to  be  on  land 
or  sea?  Does  it  involve  a  question  of  weeks  or  months? 
Am  I  to  equip  myself  for  any  special  kind  of  service?  I 
am  an  old  campaigner,  Mr.  Tregurtha,  and  the  merest  ink- 
ling of  the  work  expected  of  me  would  be  priceless — for, 
as  you  know,  one's  comfort,  even  one's  safety,  so  frequently 
turns  on  trifles.  And  the  more  dangerous  the  undertaking, 
the  more  important  it  becomes  to  guard  one's  health  and 
strength.  I  don't  want  to  go  out  there  and  fail  for  lack  of 
a  rubber  blanket  to  lie  on  at  night,  or  omit  breeches  and 
boots  if  the  expedition  is  to  be  mounted?  I  trust  you  will 
not  think  this  request  unreasonable,  or  suspect  me  of  trying 
to  take  any  advantage  of  you !  " 

Mr.  Tregurtha,  with  a  nod  of  his  head,  admitted  the 
entire  reasonableness  of  the  demand.  Only,  as  he  went  on 
to  say,  it  was  quite  unnecessary  to  satisfy  it. 

"  Everything  has  been  arranged  for,"  he  said.  "  There 
are  others  to  attend  to  all  that.  Nothing  has  been  over- 

93 


THE  ADVENTURER 

looked,  I  can  assure  you.  This  is  a  question  of  picked  men, 
performing  an  arduous  and  dangerous  task,  and,  considering 
that  the  cost  of  recruiting  them  has  reached  nearly  four 
hundred  pounds  each,  you  can  understand  that  we  will  take 
the  most  excellent  care  of  them." 

This  closed  Kirk's  mouth.  It  was  impossible  to  press 
Mr.  Tregurtha  any  further  without  appearing  both  rude 
and  inquisitive. 

Tregurtha  rose. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  will  have  to  excuse  me,"  he  remarked. 
"  You  might  be  good  enough  to  wait  in  the  outer  office  until 
I  can  send  some  one  for  your  ticket!  I  hope  you  will  not 
mind  its  being  second  class,"  he  added.  "  I  am  spending 
other  people's  money,  you  know,  and  even  as  it  is — in  your 
matter,  I  mean — I  am  already  unduly  stretching  my  au- 
thority." 

Kirk  expressed  his  satisfaction  with  any  kind  of  a  ticket. 
What  did  he  care  which  class  it  was!  Give  him  a  bunk 
and  a  blanket,  and  enough  to  eat,  and  he  could  make  him- 
self comfortable  on  anything  afloat.  Thus  protesting  his 
willingness,  he  followed  Mr.  Tregurtha  into  the  outer  office. 
Here  a  whispered  consultation  took  place  between  the  solici- 
tor and  Mr.  Timms,  in  the  course  of  which  the  latter's  face 
often  turned  significantly  in  Kirk's  direction. 

"  Now,  my  dear  man,"  said  Tregurtha,  holding  out  his 
hand  to  Kirk,  "  I  will  wish  you  good-bye  and  good  luck. 
Mr.  Timms  has  taken  charge  of  your  affair,  and  you  will 
simply  wait  till  it  is  settled.  As  for  myself,  important  busi- 
ness calls  me  elsewhere.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  I 
respect  your  determination  to  take  all  chances  and  conquer 
all  obstacles.  You  will  probably  fail,  for  I've  already  told 
you  of  the  odds  against  you.  But,  by  Jove,  I  admire  your 
spirit.  From  the  bottom  of  my  heart  I  wish  you  success. 

94 


THE   ADVENTURER 

Who  knows  but  what  in  a  few  months  you  will  be  back  here 
with  a  hundred  thousand  pounds  to  invest!  Ha-ha,  who 
knows!  Yes,  it's  a  gamble — but  sometimes  gamblers  break 
the  bank!  Good-bye  again — take  care  of  yourself — lucky 
chap  you  are  to  get  away  from  all  this  fog  and  cold.  Wish 
I  was!" 

The  big  man  bustled  cheerfully  away,  and  his  steps  were 
heard  descending  the  stairs.  Mr.  Timms  made  a  civil  re- 
mark about  the  weather,  invited  Kirk  to  sit  down,  and  giv- 
ing one  of  the  clerks  a  letter  to  take  to  the  steamship  office, 
informed  Kirk  that  he  would  not  long  be  kept  waiting. 
This  done,  Mr.  Timms  buried  his  nose  in  his  books  again, 
feeling  that  he  had  satisfied  all  the  demands  of  courtesy. 
The  typewriter  clacked,  the  street  outside  rumbled  with 
traffic,  the  remaining  clerk  twisted  on  his  high  stool  and 
yawned  audibly.  Kirk,  essentially  a  man  of  the  out-of-doors, 
pitied  these  unfortunate  slaves  of  routine  and  drudgery.  His 
own  life  had  been  a  hard  one,  but  he  had  managed  to  keep 
the  yoke  off  his  neck.  Even  the  sight  of  it  on  others  de- 
pressed him.  He  gazed  at  Mr.  Timms  as  he  might  at  some 
wretched  outcast,  saying  to  himself  in  the  words  of  the 
missionary  bishop:  "  But  for  the  grace  of  God,  that  might 
be  I!" 

But  these  momentary  reflections  vanished  in  favor  of 
others  more  personal  and  more  thrilling.  There  was  the 
recent  interview  to  speculate  upon.  The  ticket.  Tregurtha's 
good  faith  or  the  reverse.  The  location  of  that  distant 
country  to  which  he  had  been  assigned.  North,  south,  east, 
or  west,  where  was  that  steamer  to  bear  him?  He  would 
dearly  have  liked  to  inquire  of  Mr.  Timms,  but  somehow 
he  could  not  bring  himself  to  do  so.  He  was  shy  of  Mr. 
Timms.  He  was  afraid  that  Mr.  Timms  would  stare,  would 
look  surprised  at  a  man  who  did  not  know  where  he  was 

95 


THE   ADVENTURER 

going.  The  typist  would  look  surprised,  too.  Also  the  pert 
young  man  on  the  stool.  Even  as  it  was,  he  could  not  turn 
in  his  chair  without  their  all  stealthily  regarding  him.  The 
typist  and  the  clerk,  at  least.  Mr.  Timms,  with  his  thin 
shoulders  bowed  over  the  desk,  was  too  intent  on  his  re- 
searches to  be  thus  disturbed.  Occasionally  he  would  raise 
his  eyes  to  the  ceiling,  like  a  chicken  drinking,  and  then 
take  another  long  sip  of  the  law.  A  dreary  chicken,  drear- 
ily occupied,  whom  it  had  taken  long  years  to  train  and  bring 
up  to  his  present  perfection.  A  chicken  who  had  to  drink 
ink  and  digest  law  books  for  the  privilege  of  being  permitted 
to  live.  So  at  least  it  seemed  to  Kirk,  to  whom  the  contrast 
of  his  own  wild  fortunes,  with  unknown  possibilities  of  great 
stakes  to  be  won  or  lost,  made  him  feel  a  prince  in  com- 
parison. 

At  last  the  other  clerk  arrived.  Kirk  could  hardly  tol- 
erate his  delay  in  taking  off  his  overcoat  and  muffler,  and  the 
leisurely  manner  in  which  he  dawdled  about  before  handing 
Mr.  Timms  the  ticket.  Mr.  Timms  was  equally  uncon- 
cerned, and  calmly  laid  it  by  on  his  desk  untouched  until 
he  had  finished  the  page  he  was  reading.  The  ticket  meant 
nothing  to  those  people.  Nor  Kirk's  impatience.  Nor  his 
eager  and  flushing  face.  It  was  but  another  break  in  the 
monotony  of  their  jog  trot  round.  And  not  much  of  a 
break  at  that. 

Mr.  Timms  examined  the  ticket,  which  was  of  a  greenish 
complexion,  and  thickly  printed  on  the  back  with  the  things 
shipping  companies  do  for  you  in  the  event  of  this,  that,  or 
the  other — from  losing  your  baggage  to  unsuccessfully  encoun- 
tering pirates.  Then  he  made  an  entry  in  a  daybook.  Then, 
with  the  same  air  of  supreme  indifference,  he  turned  to 
Kirk,  and  with  the  benignity  of  a  person  dropping  a  penny 
into  a  blind  man's  cup,  said,  "  Here  you  are!  " 

96 


THE   ADVENTURER 

Kirk  snatched  it  from  him.  The  intensity  of  his  curi- 
osity was  agonizing.  His  eyes  leaped  to  the  type,  and  to  the 
filled-in  blanks,  with  their  stubby  writing. 

His  destination  was  Port  of  Spain,  Trinidad,  West 
Indies.  His  ship  was  the  Medvuay,  of  the  Royal  Mail  S.  S. 
Co.,  scheduled  to  sail  from  Southampton  on  November  2ist. 


97 


CHAPTER   IX 

HE  succeeding  twelve  days  were  too  unevent- 
ful to  be  described  in  detail.  Kirk  broke  his 
hundred  pounds,  installed  himself  in  cheap 
but  comfortable  lodgings,  and  bought  a 
modest  wardrobe  at  the  Army  and  Navy 
Stores.  They  were  peaceful,  placid  days — these  of  his  wait- 
ing— pleasant  at  the  time,  and  pleasanter  still  to  look  back 
upon.  It  was  a  period  of  reaction,  much  of  it  spent  before 
the  fire  in  slippers  and  dressing  gown,  with  books  and  papers 
to  while  away  the  hours  between  those  ample  meals  that 
alone  seemed  to  mark  the  progress  of  time.  Brain,  body, 
and  nerves — all  were  weary,  all  were  glad  to  rest.  Trini- 
dad seemed  immeasurably  distant.  The  desperate  enter- 
prise itself  became  a  dream,  separated  from  reality  by  oceans 
and  continents.  The  thought  of  failure  had  no  power  to  dis- 
turb him.  The  whole  thing  was  so  remote,  so  hazy,  so  incon- 
ceivable. The  mind  refused  to  worry  about  it,  or  see  beyond 
Southampton.  Life  was  now  bounded  by  Southampton.  It 
was  impossible  to  project  himself  beyond  Southampton. 

Of  course  he  went  and  saw  Kittredge.  Kittredge  was 
tremendously  excited.  Kittredge  had  a  thousand  ideas  on 
the  subject — revolutions,  dictators,  a  Venezuelan  empire — 
Heaven  knows  what!  Kirk  smoked  his  pipe  and  listened 
imperturbably  to  the  novelist.  He  loved  the  companion- 
ship, the  privilege  of  lying  back  in  a  chair  with  his  feet  on 
a  table,  the  perennial  satisfaction  of  having  gained  such  a 
friend.  But  he  said  little;  he  smoked  and  smoked;  while 

98 


THE   ADVENTURER 

Kittredge  reared  fairy  castles  and  carved  out  kingdoms. 
The  novelist  was  humorously  indignant  at  Kirk's  apathy. 

"  You're  a  chump,"  he  vociferated.  "  You  haven't  a  soul 
above  a  milk  wagon.  Here  I  am  wading  through  seas  of 
blood,  pouring  out  treasures  of  imagination  worth  at  least 
a  shilling  a  word,  without  counting  the  American  rights, 
while  you  look  on  like  a  stuck  pig." 

Kirk  lazily  blew  away  the  smoke. 

"  I  can't  make  head  or  tail  of  it,"  he  said.  "  I've  racked 
my  head  long  enough.  I've  determined  to  take  things  as 
they  come." 

"  It's  men  like  you  who  peel  potatoes  while  others  are 
covering  themselves  with  everlasting  glory." 

"  Can't  help  it.  It's  a  stone  wall,  and  you  can't  see 
through  it  any  better  than  I  can.  They've  kept  their  secret 
mighty  well,  Kittredge,  and  we  aren't  likely  to  stumble  on 
it  by  accident.  I'm  as  willing  as  anybody  to  make  a  dino- 
saurus  out  of  a  thigh  bone — but  where's  your  thigh  bone?  " 

"  It's  infernally  puzzling,"  granted  the  novelist. 

"  It's  worse,"  said  Kirk.  "  Because  we  aren't  even  sure 
of  their  good  faith.  Perhaps  they  are  just  side-tracking  me 
to  Trinidad  to  get  me  out  of  London.  I  can't  forget  how 
disgusted  Tregurtha  looked  when  I  plumped  in  on  him. 
By  the  way,  did  you  manage  to  find  out  anything  about 
him?" 

"  Not  very  much." 

"What  exactly?" 

"  Only  that  he  is  a  solicitor  of  the  confidential,  man-of- 
business  kind.  Acts  in  this  capacity  for  a  small  clientele  of 
very  rich  people.  A  man  of  undoubted  standing.  The  sort 
that  everybody  speaks  well  of,  and  nobody  knows!  One  of 
those  obscure  pillars  of  the  universe  who  attract  no  atten- 
tion unless  they  tumble.  Negatively  important,  you  know. 

99 


THE   ADVENTURER 

Get  a  leaded  paragraph  if  he  died  or  levanted,  but  otherwise 
ignored.  Controls  unlimited  money,  yet  with  the  reputa- 
tion of  investing  only  in  ground  rents,  and  gilt-edged  mort- 
gages. Not  at  all  one's  idea  of  a  pirate  leader." 

"  No,  he  certainly  isn't,"  said  Kirk. 

"  In  fact,  he's  about  the  biggest  mystery  in  the  whole 
mysterious  business,"  went  on  Kittredge.  "  It's  midsum- 
mer madness  for  a  man  like  that  to  lend  himself  to  under- 
hand and  desperate  schemes.  He  ought  to  have  looked 
perturbed  when  you  met  him,  for  if  the  truth  got  out  he 
would  cut  a  weird  figure.  What  gets  me  is  that  he  should 
be  fool  enough  to  risk  it!  " 

"  It  gets  me,  too,"  said  Kirk,  with  an  increasing  per- 
plexity. "  Kittredge,  it's — it's  staggering !  " 

At  last  the  great  day  came.  Waterloo  station.  Special 
train.  Mountains  of  baggage.  Weeping  friends.  Golf 
sticks.  "Take  your  seats!  Take  your  seats!"  Smoky, 
grimy  old  London  left  behind.  A  desolate  winter  landscape 
of  luminous  grays.  Rain  beating  against  the  windows.  Sta- 
tions rattling  past  without  a  stop.  A  smell  of  sea  and  tar. 
Smokestacks,  yards,  rigging,  men  in  jerseys.  Prolonged  back- 
ing, tooting,  and  the  sensation, of  being  shunted  on  a  rougher 
track.  "  All  tickets  ready !  All  tickets  ready !  "  Another 
stop.  Effusion  of  green  tickets.  On  again,  very  slowly,  till 
abreast  of  a  towering  liner  with  rakish  smokestacks.  Por- 
ters, pandemonium,  "  second-class  passengers  this  way," 
surging  gangways,  crush,  jostle,  slippery  slats  underfoot, 
umbrella  handle  in  your  back,  frantic  officers  in  blue  and 
gold — and  aboard! 

The  trip  was  monotonous.  Kirk  kept  to  himself,  and 
mixed  little  with  his  fellow-passengers.  Not  that  he  was  an 
unsocial  man,  but  it  seemed  wiser  not  to  make  any  friends, 

100 


THE   ADVENTURER 

and  risk  no  confidences.  He  had  a  secret  to  keep,  and  his 
role  was  to  be  inconspicuous  and  attract  no  attention.  He 
earned  the  reputation  of  being  a  pleasant,  silent  man,  in- 
separable from  his  pipe  and  his  book.  Those  that  tried  to 
penetrate  his  reserve  called  him  morose.  The  pumping  fra- 
ternity, male  and  female,  got  nothing  out  of  him.  To  point- 
blank  questions  he  would  protect  himself  by  asking  what 
time  it  was,  and  if  this  did  not  suffice  he  would  offer  con- 
jectures on  the  next  day's  run.  His  final  resort  was  to 
continue  his  reading  with  an  air  of  artless  preoccupation. 
Altogether,  he  was  a  very  unsatisfactory  second-class  pas- 
senger, and  was  popularly  nicknamed  "  the  oyster." 

There  were  the  usual  dances,  the  usual  concerts,  the 
usual  quarrels  and  flirtations.  Fiercely  whiskered,  South 
American  gentlemen  had  to  be  restrained  from  pulling  the 
noses  of  other  fiercely  whiskered,  South  American  gentle- 
men. Dark-eyed  ladies  of  Castile  looted  the  fruit  dishes  at 
the  beginning  of  dinner,  and  calmly  appropriated  the  best 
orange  or  the  only  grapes.  Obstreperous  children  made 
everybody  miserable  and  played  screaming  games.  Colored 
citizens  of  Haiti,  in  frock  coats  and  carpet  slippers,  jabbered 
endlessly  about  "  President  Sam  " — whoever  he  was — and 
the  necessity  of  something  being  done  at  once,  with  inter- 
minable, "  Entendez-vous,  je  vous  prrrrie"  and  "  Tenez, 
mon  ami,  tenez! — Gordon,  du  vin  wouge,  s'il  vous  plait!  " 
The  English,  largely  predominant,  busied  themselves  in  the 
manufacture  of  a  social  system,  and  soon  evolved  an  upper 
circle,  a  next-to-the-upper  circle,  and  an  ostracized  list  of 
those  that  must  be  kept  down  and  resolutely  cold-shouldered. 

And  so  the  days  passed  in  agreeable  tedium,  the  little 
world  of  the  second  class  sorting  itself  out,  and  everyone 
save  Kirk  finding  his  or  her  level.  Leaders  emerged — bores 
— reciters.  Toadies  and  mischief-makers.  Bold  young  men 

101 


THE   ADVENTURER 

pursued  maidens.  Wily  maidens  pursued  bashful  young  men. 
And  over  all  was  the  dome  of  tropic  sky,  and  around  them 
the  unbroken  blue  horizon,  with  the  Medway  as  the  center 
of  the  universe. 

In  thirteen  days  they  reached  Barbadoes,  where  Kirk 
changed  to  the  Solent,  one  of  the  three  smaller  vessels  await- 
ing the  mail.  The  Medway  herself  went  on  to  Colon. 
Three  days  later  Kirk  arrived  at  Port  of  Spain,  Trinidad. 

There  was  the  usual  bustle  attending  an  incoming 
steamer.  Friends  greeting  one  another,  touts  forcing  hotel 
cards  into  unwilling  hands  and  fighting  for  hand  baggage. 
Officials,  peddlers,  boatmen,  naked  boys  diving  for  pennies, 
insinuating  darkies,  with  confidential  grins  and  winks,  press- 
ing some  very  dubious  wares  on  your  attention.  A  terrible 
loneliness  came  over  Kirk  as  he  stood  there,  bag  in  hand, 
waiting  he  did  not  know  for  what.  The  folly  of  his  journey 
now  began  to  strike  him  for  the  first  time.  How  was  anyone 
to  find  him  in  this  city?  How  could  any  message  possibly 
reach  him?  He  had  been  fooled.  He  had  been  got  out  of 
the  way.  But  even  as  he  said  these  things  to  himself  he  kept 
gazing  about  anxiously,  prepared  to  be  greeted,  prepared  to 
have  a  letter  slipped  into  his  hand.  He  answered  every 
glance  in  his  direction,  drawing  himself  up,  and  with  the 
words,  "  Yes,  I  am  Lewis  Kirkpatrick,"  ready  on  his  lips. 
But  no  one  asked  him  who  he  was.  No  one  accosted  him, 
save  touts  and  boatmen.  How  he  had  been  tricked!  How 
childishly  he  had  been  tricked ! 

In  London  it  had  seemed  simple  enough.  "  Go  to  Port 
of  Spain,  and  await  instructions."  He  had  had  no  idea 
it  would  turn  out  to  be  an  imposing  city,  with  wharves 
and  warehouses  and  innumerable  hotels  and  wide,  spacious 
streets.  He,  the  needle  in  a  haystack  of  colossal  propor- 
tions! No  address  had  been  given  him,  no  rendezvous.  He 

102 


THE   ADVENTURER 

had  a  sickening  sense  that  to  abandon  the  steamer  would 
be  to  abandon  everything.  Here,  at  least,  he  could  be  found 
— if  anybody  wanted  to  find  him.  But  once  ashore,  and  lost 
among  twenty  thousand  people!  How  precipitate  he  had 
been,  how  foolish  and  unheeding!  Hadn't  even  put  it 
squarely  to  Tregurtha,  who  had  treacherously  slipped  away, 
with  the  very  idea,  perhaps,  of  eluding  such  questions. 

He  waited  miserably,  while  the  commotion  lessened  and 
the  decks  thinned.  Passenger  after  passenger  was  rowed 
ashore.  The  ship  regained  something  of  her  ordinary  quiet. 
People  eyed  him  curiously  and  wondered  at  his  indecision. 
His  bag  bore  a  large  label  with  "  Port  of  Spain  "  on  it. 
Did  he  not  know,  then,  that  this  was  Port  of  Spain?  Alas, 
he  did.  Hated  the  sight  of  it,  too.  Wished  a  thousand  times 
that  he  had  never  quitted  London ! 

He  stopped  one  of  the  officers  and  begged  for  the  address 
of  the  best  hotel.  He  would  be  less  a  needle  in  the  best 
hotel.  It  seemed  that  it  was  called  the  Ice  House.  It 
was  an  extravagance  to  put  up  at  the  best  hotel,  but  was 
it  not  the  right  policy?  There  could  be  no  doubt  about 
that.  Unless  he  were  to  give  up  all  hope,  at  once  and  for- 
ever, the  Ice  House  was  imperative.  Here  he  was  findable 
at  any  rate.  Here  he  could  rest  with  some  confidence  (the 
words  stuck  in  his  throat)  that  these  vague  "  instructions  " 
would  not  miscarry  if  he  were  lucky  enough  still  to  be 
wanted.  He  went  ashore  in  a  very  gloomy  frame  of  mind, 
and  offered  a  nigger  boy  sixpence  to  guide  him  to  the  hotel. 
He  engaged  a  room,  and  still  hoping  against  hope,  asked  if 
there  was  a  letter  for  Lewis  Kirkpatrick.  But  there  was 
no  letter.  He  turned  away,  not  disappointed — it  was  worse 
than  disappointment — but  crushed,  heartsick,  and  realizing 
all  over  again  the  futility  of  his  voyage. 

The  hotel,  like  most  hotels  in  the  tropics,  was  comfort- 
103 


THE   ADVENTURER 

less  and  draughty,  with  long,  uncarpeted  corridors,  and  big, 
bare  public  rooms.  For  some  reason  or  other  there  were 
very  few  guests,  and  in  comparison  with  the  crowded  and 
noisy  steamer  the  place  seemed  altogether  lifeless,  and  given 
over  to  flies  and  slumbering  waiters.  Kirk  was  restless  and 
unhappy.  He  was  afraid  to  go  out  and  look  at  the  town 
lest  the  message  might  come  in  his  absence.  Resigned  as  he 
was  to  failure,  convinced  that  Tregurtha  had  betrayed  him, 
he  yet  could  not  bring  himself  to  actually  accept  defeat.  In 
his  thoughts,  however  black,  there  was  always  a  "  perhaps." 
He  would  stick  tight  to  the  Ice  House  and  wait.  Wait, 
most  probably,  for  nothing;  but  wait,  anyhow.  Keep  him- 
self in  evidence.  Hang  about  the  verandas,  pester  the  office, 
smoke  and  read  and  loaf,  yet  always  with  a  weather  eye 
lifted. 

At  dinner — an  uncommonly  good  one,  by  the  way — he 
was  put  at  a  table  not  far  from  a  party  of  three.  They 
were  all  men,  and  their  good  spirits  and  hilarity  only  served 
in  contrast  to  make  his  own  lot  appear  more  bitter.  He 
listened  moodily  to  the  popping  of  their  champagne  corks, 
their  outbursts  of  laughter,  their  boisterous  raillery  of  one 
another,  in  which  there  were  references  to  unintelligible  mis- 
haps in  the  past  that  often  convulsed  the  table. 

The  word  Medway  made  Kirk  prick  up  his  ears.  It 
seemed  that  they  had  been  fellow-passengers,  and  had  come 
out  in  the  same  steamer.  In  the  saloon,  of  course.  In  that 
other  world,  enviously  seen  from  across  a  barrier,  where 
people  dressed  for  dinner,  lolled  aristocratically  in  deck 
chairs,  and  walked  in  spacious  freedom.  They  were  sports- 
men— big-game  men — on  a  rousing  holiday  that  was  to  take 
them  up  the  Orinoco  after  tapirs  and  tigers.  There  was  no 
concealment  of  these  plans.  Kirk  was  no  eavesdropper.  It 
was  for  all  to  hear,  and  they  talked  and  acted  like  boys  out 

104 


THE   ADVENTURER 

of  school.  Nice  boys,  though.  They  were  gentlemen  in- 
dubitably, but  exuberant  and  jolly — old  and  tried  compan- 
ions who  had  been  in  Africa  together,  India,  everywhere. 

The  more  serious  member  of  the  party  was  referred  to  as 
"  the  bart."  He  was  about  forty-five,  with  crisp,  iron-gray 
hair  and  a  close-cut  beard.  A  fine-looking  man,  with  a  loud 
voice,  full  of  friendly  authority.  A  pair  of  eyeglasses  dangled 
from  his  neck,  which  he  put  on  only  when  he  wanted  to 
speak  to  a  waiter.  He  couldn't  even  ask  for  bread  without 
first  setting  them  on  the  end  of  his  nose,  holding  his  head 
at  an  angle  lest  they  should  fall  off.  They  were  always 
dropping  into  his  plate  or  getting  tangled  on  his  buttons, 
and  as  he  seemed  to  see  perfectly  well  without  them — every- 
thing but  waiters,  that  is — Kirk  wondered  why  he  should 
expose  himself  to  so  much  annoyance  for  nothing. 

Of  the  two  other  members  of  the  trio,  one  was  a  very 
stout,  fair,  apoplectic  man  of  about  the  same  age  as  the 
bart.,  with  a  blurting  way  of  speaking,  and  a  large  flipper 
of  a  hand  with  which  he  would  attack  the  person  he  wished 
to  address.  His  manner  of  getting  into  the  conversation  was 
to  hit  out  with  his  flipper  like  a  walrus,  and  land  the  back 
of  his  hand  on  the  other  fellow's  waistcoat.  He  would  keep 
this  up  till  he  had  captured  attention,  slamming  the  speaker 
of  the  moment  into  submission.  He  never  had  anything 
particular  to  say,  but  slam,  slam,  it  had  to  be  said.  He  was 
named  Mins — Sydney  Mins. 

The  third  was  younger — not  over  thirty.  He  answered 
to  either  Freddy  or  "  the  captain."  He  was  dark  and  hand- 
some, with  a  waxed  mustache  and  the  stiffish  carriage  of  a 
soldier.  His  black  eyes  sparkled  with  fire  and  mockery.  He 
bubbled  over  with  talk,  repartee,  and  whimsicality.  He 
could  make  the  most  ordinary  transaction  appear  absurd 
by  the  humorous  twist  he  gave  everything.  He  would  flip 

105 


THE   ADVENTURER 

a  waiter  and  imitate  Mins's  plethoric  tone.  He  would  drop 
imaginary  eyeglasses  into  his  fricasseed  chicken,  and  fish 
them  out  on  the  end  of  his  fork.  He  would  purposely  mis- 
understand a  question  and  make  it  preposterous.  A  charm- 
ing fellow,  sprightly  and  gay,  whose  incessant  chaff  never 
concealed  a  sting.  Able  to  see  a  joke  on  himself,  too,  and 
laugh  heartily  when  the  tables  were  turned.  Full  of  boyish- 
ness and  fun,  and  with  all  the  winning  manners  of  a  well- 
bred  Englishman.  His  name,  as  Kirk  learned  from  the 
waiter,  was  Tread  well — Captain  Frederick  Treadwell, 
D.S.O.,  of  the  British  Army.  The  man  with  the  stiff  gray 
hair  was  Sir  Adrian  Stiles,  Baronet.  The  walrus  was  Mr. 
Mins,  of  Opp,  Pryor  &  Mins,  the  great  brewers.  "  Mints 
of  money,"  said  the  waiter  with  negro  unctuousness.  "  Could 
buy  out  this  hotel  and  never  wiggle  an  eyelash.  Fif '  thousand 
a  year,  sah.  The  tiger  as  gets  him  will  do  a  million  pounds 
worth  of  damage !  " 

Kirk,  from  his  solitary  table,  watched  the  merry  party 
with  a  certain  wistfulness.  What  jolly  men  they  were,  how 
happy  and  care  free — these  glorified  beings  from  another 
world,  with  nothing  to  do  but  drink  champagne  and  shoot 
tigers!  It  was  a  privilege  to  sit  near  them,  to  pick  up  the 
crumbs  of  their  racy  talk,  to  smile  into  his  plate  at  some 
lively  sally  of  the  captain's.  Yet  his  pleasure  was  not  unal- 
loyed. The  contrast  was  too  painful.  It  intensified  his  own 
loneliness,  and  weighed  down  his  already  heavy  heart.  He 
felt  like  a  beggar  gazing  through  the  plate-glass  windows 
of  some  magnificent  shop — gazing  at  the  unattainable,  so 
near,  and  yet  so  immeasurably  far.  His  eyes  smarted  with 
a  sort  of  pity  for  himself.  He  wondered  if  in  the  whole 
town  there  was  anyone  so  sad  as  he — so  miserable  and  de- 
spairing. 

The  next  morning  there  was  still  no  letter.  He  break- 
106 


THE   ADVENTURER 

fasted,  and  wandered  out  on  one  of  the  verandas  to  smoke. 
Sat  on  a  very  hard  green  chair,  and  filled  his  pipe.  He  had 
hardly  taken  more  than  a  whiff  or  two  when  Mr.  Mins 
appeared.  Mr.  Mins  took  the  adjoining,  hard,  green  chair, 
and  elaborately  lighted  a  cigar.  The  man  of  millions 
breathed  hard,  fidgeted,  and  executed  some  grunts  that 
seemed  the  preliminaries  of  conversation.  Then  he  threw 
out  his  flipper  and  landed  a  blow  in  the  region  of  Kirk's 
stomach.  The  attack,  though  expected,  was  startling  in 
its  seventy.  It  jarred  Kirk's  breakfast  and  made  him 
gasp. 

"  Live  here?  "  inquired  Mins,  flipping  him  again.  "  Live 
here?" 

"  No,"  replied  Kirk,  "  I  am  a  stranger." 

Mr.  Mins  relapsed  into  silence,  blew  out  smoke,  and 
regarded  some  buzzards  engaged  in  scavenging  the  gutter. 

Then  he  hit  out  again. 

"Yankee?  "he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  said  Kirk.    "  I'm  an  American." 

Mr.  Mins  digested  this  long  and  earnestly. 

Finally  he  remarked  dreamily  that  he  had  won  sixpence. 

Letting  this  sink  in,  he  turned,  and  catching  Kirk  off 
his  guard,  flipped  him  good  and  hard. 

"  Had  a  bet  with  Stiles,"  he  said.  "  Saw  you  in  the 
bar  last  night.  Saw  your  foot  reaching  for  a  step.  Sure 
sign.  American.  Stiles  wouldn't  believe  it.  Bet  him  six- 
pence. Won  sixpence.  Joke  on  Stiles.  Have  a  drink  ?  " 

Kirk  didn't  want  to  drink,  but  as  an  overture  of  friend- 
ship he  did  not  care  to  refuse  it.  Drinks  were  brought.  He 
tried  to  keep  the  ball  of  conversation  rolling.  But  it  would 
not  roll.  The  weather,  buzzards,  tigers — but  all  to  no  effect. 
Mr.  Mins  subsided  into  smoke,  and  an  occasional  "  ugh, 
ugh."  The  flipper  hung  by  his  side,  out  of  action.  He 
8  107 


THE   ADVENTURER 

yawned,  crossed  his  fat  legs,  and  remained  ponderously 
inert. 

Here,  after  a  while,  they  were  both  discovered  by  the 
captain  and  Stiles.  The  newcomers  had  been  riding.  They 
entered  boisterously,  clanking  spurs,  shaking  the  floor  with 
their  heavy  boots,  and  greeting  Mins  as  though  they  had 
been  separated  for  a  week.  They  drew  up  chairs,  looking 
at  Kirk  a  little  askance. 

"  American,"  said  Mins,  giving  Kirk  another  in  the 
solar  plexus  by  way  of  introduction.  "  Ha-ha!  Knew  I 
was  right.  Won  sixpence !  " 

Kirk  smiled.  The  captain  and  Stiles  nodded  to  him 
good-naturedly.  The  sixpence  was  paid.  The  American 
need  of  resting  the  foot  on  something  came  in  for  attention. 
The  subject  was  rapidly  exhausted.  Then  Mins,  with  an 
air  of  immense  import,  announced  that  he  had  some  news 
to  tell.  He  tantalized  his  companions  by  making  them  offer 
guesses.  No,  it  wasn't  this,  it  wasn't  that.  Try  again,  old 
fellow!  At  length  they  gave  it  up. 

"  His  girl,"  said  Mins,  indicating  the  captain  jovially. 
"  The  stunner  on  the  Medway — the  one  that  wouldn't  look 
at  him — always  crying  under  a  tartan  rug — maid  on  guard 
to  keep  off  the  cavalry —  Miss  Mystery  Westbrook — ha-ha 
— what  do  you  think?  Upstairs  on  the  front  veranda,  nib- 
bling buttered  toast!  Been  here  all  the  while,  and  we  never 
knew  it!  Freddy  fooled — bart.  off  the  scent  like  a  silly  ass 
— poor  little  me  the  fellow  to  run  her  down.  'Pon  my  soul 
and  honor — yes,  right  above  us — in  a  lovely  pink  arrange- 
ment with  satin  bows!  Ha-ha — peace  has  its  victories  as 
well  as  war!  Stumbled  right  on  her,  and  got  one  of  those 
knock-down  looks  from  her  gray  eyes.  Took  me  for  the 
captain,  and  up  goes  her  pretty  nose !  " 

This  half-intelligible  monologue  caused  the  liveliest  sen- 
108 


THE  ADVENTURER 

sation.  The  captain  jumped  up  excitedly.  Stiles  was  for  a 
time  eagerly  incredulous.  Kirk  pieced  together  the  odds 
and  ends  of  their  random  sentences  and  exclamations.  This 
Miss  Westbrook — Vera  Westbrook — had  occupied  one  of 
the  best  cabins  of  the  ship.  She  was  exceedingly  pretty  and 
exceedingly  sad.  The  captain,  very  much  smitten,  had  tried 
every  artifice  to  break  down  the  reserve  with  which  she  sur- 
rounded herself.  Had  tried  without  the  least  success,  greatly 
to  the  amazement  of  his  two  companions,  who  had  made  her 
a  target  of  their  curiosity.  And  here  she  was  in  the  Ice 
House,  discovered  by  chance — Miss  Mystery  Westbrook,  as 
they  called  her,  demurely  eating  buttered  toast  on  a  ver- 
anda where  all  might  walk! 

The  captain  hurried  off  to  verify  the  discovery.  Stiles 
amplified  the  tale  of  the  young  lady's  extraordinary  beauty 
and  extraordinary  reserve.  Mins  flipped  Stiles  and  Kirk 
indiscriminately  in  order  to  coerce  their  attention  and  pre- 
vent himself  from  being  left  out. 

"  Here  was  I  (flip) — a  pretty  warm  man,  as  they  used 
to  say  (flip).  One  of  the  leading  commoners  of  England, 
by  Jove — snubbed,  would  you  believe  it!  (Flip,  flip,  flip.) 
And  Stiles,  old  county  family  (flip) — name  in  Doomsday 
Book — (flip,  flip) — snubbed,  too  (flip,  flip,  flip)  !  And  Fred 
Tread  well— dashing—  Horse  Artillery— D.  S.  O.— (flip)  — 
Chitral  campaign  (flip) — Bhil  war  (flip) — South  African 
record — (flip)  young,  fascinating,  magnificent  future  (flip) 
—snubbed,  too,  by  George!"  (Flip,  flip,  flip,  flip!) 

The  captain  returned,  smiling  ruefully. 

"  Just  my  luck,"  he  said.  "  Saw  her  disappearing  through 
a  doorway  in  a  pink  blaze  of  attractiveness.  Hope  she  didn't 
—didn't— think " 

"  You're  a  silly  ass,"  said  Mins. 

"  Felt  more  like  an  awful  bounder,"  continued  the  cap- 
109 


THE   ADVENTURER 

tain  dismally.  "  I  thought  I'd  just  walk  in,  and — er — make 
sure  Mins  wasn't  spoofing  us — and  appear  surprised — and — 
bow,  don't  you  know — and  perhaps  find  an  opening  to  say 
good  morning,  you  know!  " 

"  It's  those  boots,"  said  Stiles.  "  Til-lillup,  Til-lillup— 
probably  took  for  you  an  earthquake  or  a  mule  battery  going 
into  action.  If  you'd  only  left  it  to  me " 

"  Leave  it  to  you ! "  roared  the  captain  scornfully. 
"  You're  at  the  root  of  all  our  trouble.  You  caught  her  the 
first  day  out,  when  she  was  too  seasick  to  escape,  and  bored 
her  to  the  screaming  point  with  your  infernal  family.  When 
Fm  interested  in  a  girl  I'll  thank  you  to  keep  your  paws 
off.  Yes,  and  Mins,  too.  He  only  hit  her  once,  but  it 
prejudiced  her  against  all  of  us." 

"  Never  hit  her,"  growled  Mins.  "  Don't  know  what 
you're  talking  about.  Offered  her  my  binoculars,  that's  all !  " 

"  With  one  of  your  bear  pats,"  added  Treadwell. 

"  Wish  you  fellows  would  shut  up,"  exclaimed  Stiles. 
"  You  make  such  a  row  I  can't  think.  The  hotel  people 
must  know  something  about  her." 

"  No,  they  don't,"  said  Treadwell.  "  I  went  and  asked 
them." 

"  There's  some  mystery  about  her,"  continued  Stiles.  "  I 
would  give  my  first  chance  at  a  tiger  to  know  what  it  is. 
Oh,  you  can  chaff  all  you  like,  but  you'd  give  your  ears  to 
know — both  of  you!  " 

"  Little  Mystery  Westbrook,  I  wonder  who  you  are," 
hummed  the  captain.  "  With  your  eyes  sae  sweet,  and  your 
feet  sae  neat,  and " 

A  gawky  negro  servant  checked  this  musical  outburst. 

"Mr.  Lewis  Kirkpatrick ?  "  he  asked,  impersonally  roll- 
ing his  eyes  over  the  whole  party.  "  Mr.  Lewis  Kirk- 
patrick?" 

110 


THE  ADVENTURER 

"  Here !  "  shouted  Kirk,  jumping  up. 

"  Letter  for  you  in  the  office,  sah." 

Kirk  hastily  excused  himself,  and  flew  into  the  house. 

The  clerk  handed  him  the  letter,  explaining  that  as  it  was 
said  to  contain  money  he  had  hesitated  to  trust  it  to  any  of 
the  servants  to  deliver. 

11  Just  as  well  to  be  on  the  safe  side,"  he  added,  smiling. 

Kirk  tore  it  open.  Snuggled  within  ten  five-dollar  notes 
he  found  two  separate  sheets.  On  one  was  written :  "  You 
will  proceed  to  Ciudad  Bolivar  on  the  '  El  Capitan/  leaving 
here  on  Sunday.  Remain  on  the  steamer  till  you  are  called 
for  by  one  of  our  agents."  On  the  other  was :  "  Pass  Lewis 
Kirkpatrick  up  the  river."  There  was  no  signature  to  either, 
but  Kirk  remarked  that  the  paper  was  of  a  peculiar  quality, 
very  thick,  glossy,  and  mottled,  and  to  judge  from  the  water- 
mark, German  in  origin.  It  had  been  probably  chosen  to 
identify  the  bearer  with  the  mysterious  enterprise,  and  yet 
give  him  no  clew  in  the  way  of  names  or  initials. 

"Who  brought  this?"  asked  Kirk. 

"  A  boy." 

"What  kind  of  boy?" 

"  Just  an  ordinary,  common  or  garden  boy,"  said  the 
clerk  humorously. 

"  Ever  see  him  before?  " 

The  clerk  was  about  to  answer  "  No,"  when  a  rustle  of 
skirts  caused  him  to  turn.  He  assumed  a  most  deferential 
expression,  and  leaned  over  the  counter,  beaming  from  ear 
to  ear.  Kirk  turned,  too,  and  looked  into  the  eyes  of  the 
dazzling  housemaid  who  had  admitted  him  to  82  Tedworth 
Street! 

There  was  an  instant  of  mute  recognition. 

Kirk,  as  in  a  dream,  lifted  his  hat,  and  withdrew  a  step 
backward.  Still  in  a  dream  he  heard  the  clerk  saying:  "  Yes, 

III 


THE   ADVENTURER 

Miss  Westbrook.  Make  it  up  to  Sunday,  certainly  Miss 
Westbrook.  Oh,  the  steamer  is  most  comfortable,  Miss 
Westbrook.  All  our  guests  have  spoken  highly  of  the  El 
Capitan,  Miss  Westbrook.  Making  any  stay  at  Bolivar? 
Interesting  place,  but  poor  accommodation — very  poor. 
Nothing  but  cots,  and  a  snake  in  each  room — fact,  positively 
— take  the  place  of  cats,  you  know.  Better  stay  on  the  boat, 
and  come  back  with  her.  No  snakes  on  the  boat,  Miss  West- 
brook!" 

She  turned  away,  and  with  an  unshrinking  look  at  Kirk, 
as  though  to  recall  the  momentary  recognition  she  had  been 
betrayed  into,  passed  him  without  a  sign,  and  glided  grace- 
fully toward  the  stair. 


112 


CHAPTER  X 

CENE,  four  days  later,  the  upper  deck  of  the 
El  Capitan,  a  large,  sidewheel,  river  steamer 
of  American  design,  beating  her  way  up  the 
muddy  waters  of  the  Orinoco.  On  either 
hand,  diminished  by  distance  to  drab  insig- 
nificance, was  a  low  line  that  the  glass  showed  to  be  forest, 
with  the  roots  of  the  trees  sunk  in  ooze.  A  sullen  land- 
scape, in  spite  of  the  bright  sky  overhead,  forbidding  in  its 
suggestion  of  flood,  savagery,  and  tracklessness.  A  frightful 
region,  in  which  man,  naked  and  bestial,  contests  his  domin- 
ion with  snakes  and  jaguars,  and  perches  himself  on  crazy 
platforms  in  the  tops  of  trees — a  human  monkey,  envious  of 
his  half-brother's  tail,  gibbering  at  passing  steamers  and  pro- 
pitiating them  with  charms. 

The  passengers,  some  thirty-five  or  forty  in  number,  were 
gathered  on  the  forward  deck.  An  idiot  with  a  gun  was 
taking  snapshots  at  some  white  birds  that  hovered  about  the 
steamer,  and  lazily  kept  pace  with  her.  Kirk,  leaning 
against  the  rail,  was  resentfully  regarding  Sydney  Mins,  who 
was  hanging  over  Miss  Westbrook,  and  attempting  to  make 
himself  agreeable.  She  lay  in  a  deck  chair,  still  and  beauti- 
ful, with  her  clustering  chestnut  hair  somewhat  loosened 
and  her  pretty  hands  folded  in  her  lap.  She  was  very  fair, 
her  face  oval,  and  features  were  of  a  singular  purity.  A 
vivid  face  that  it  was  not  easy  to  take  one's  eyes  from,  ador- 
able when  it  smiled,  and  tender  and  enigmatic  in  repose.  Kirk 
thought  he  had  never  seen  a  more  exquisite  human  being. 

"3 


THE   ADVENTURER 

From  her  little  bronze  boots  to  the  top  of  her  curly  head 
she  seemed  to  him  the  embodiment  of  perfect  womanhood. 
Her  grace  and  delicacy,  her  high-bred  air,  something  girl- 
ishly appealing  under  the  infliction  of  Mins — all  moved  Kirk 
with  a  fine  exasperation. 

It  seemed  a  brutal  world  into  which  such  flowers  were 
flung  to  be  trampled  on.  It  made  Kirk  quite  hot  to  think 
of  it.  Angels,  to  be  devoured  by  wolves.  That  tall,  captain 
fellow,  cigar  in  mouth,  and  talking  tiger  to  the  sweaty-faced 
baronet,  would  probably  think  he  was  conferring  a  great 
favor  in  marrying  such  a  paragon.  If  not  he,  indeed,  some 
similar  swaggering,  top-lofty  creature,  to  whom  giving  up 
bears  for  matrimony  would  probably  appear  in  the  light  of  a 
condescension.  And  the  paragon  would  probably  think  so,  too, 
and  contentedly  yield  the  treasure  of  herself  to  a  man  who 
had  not  sense  enough  to  value  it.  Kirk  felt  very  bitter. 
And  unwarrantable  jealousy  made  him  sick  at  heart.  What 
business  had  this  insufferable  brewer  to  force  himself  on  the 
girl  and  coerce  her  by  sheer  noise  and  bulk  ?  Pioneering  the 
way  for  the  two  others,  who  were  covertly  looking  on,  ready 
to  advance  when  the  stout  skirmisher  had  effected  his  work. 
Anybody  could  see  that  he  was  an  infliction  to  her.  Kirk 
ached  to  take  him  by  the  collar  and  throw  him  overboard. 
That  was  what  it  was  to  be  a  gentleman — to  be  hampered 
by  a  finer  instinct.  A  gentleman  kept  aloof,  a  trifle  jaun- 
diced perhaps,  while  bounders  butted  in.  Such  at  least  was 
how  Kirk  put  it  to  himself.  The  truth  was  he  would  have 
given  worlds  to  be  in  Mins's  shoes.  But  he  was  a  shy  man 
— shy,  and  innately  chivalrous — and  would  have  deemed  it 
a  great  liberty  to  accost  this  young  lady — even  to  ask  if  she 
were  comfortable,  or  propose  to  move  the  chair  into  a  shadier 
place.  It  took  a  coarser  type  to  do  that — a  Mins!  And  he 
hated  and  envied  him,  both  at  once. 

114 


THE   ADVENTURER 

He  moved  nearer,  teased  and  tempted.  He  vented  his 
ill  humor  on  the  idiot  with  the  gun.  Ordered  the  idiot  to 
stop.  Said  he  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  himself.  Stood  there 
ready  to  twist  it  out  of  his  hands  if  the  fellow  didn't  acquiesce. 
The  fellow  blustered  and  then  subsided,  cowed  by  Kirk's 
determined  look — disappeared  with  his  gun,  to  be  seen  or 
heard  no  more.  Kirk  leaned  against  a  stanchion,  not  a  dozen 
feet  from  Mins,  and  moodily  filled  another  pipe.  He  felt 
very  stiff,  self-conscious,  and  angry.  He  almost  regretted 
the  attention  his  action  had  excited.  People  edged  away 
from  him,  as  though  they,  too,  might  be  called  to  account. 
They  hardly  dared  to  look  at  the  white  birds,  lest  they  might 
get  into  trouble  with  this  belligerent  stranger.  Kirk  kept 
his  flushed  face  rigorously  away  from  Miss  Westbrook.  He 
felt  humiliated,  lonely — almost  an  outcast — for  no  conceiv- 
able reason.  He  wondered  how  he  was  to  endure  another 
day  of  this  kind  of  thing. 

But  he  could  not  keep  his  face  away  forever.  He  turned 
— and  as  he  turned  their  eyes  met.  Then,  to  his  utter  as- 
tonishment, she  called  out,  "  Mr.  Kirkpatrick!  " 

Kirk  could  not  have  been  more  stupefied  if  the  deck  had 
opened  and  swallowed  him  up.  He  gazed  at  her,  unable  to 
believe  his  ears. 

"  Here — you — "  exclaimed  Mins  roughly.  "  Don't 
stand  there  like  that — lady  wants  you !  " 

Kirk  hastened  to  her  side.  His  face  was  burning.  The 
sound  of  his  own  name,  coming  from  those  lips,  had  fairly  un- 
manned him. 

"  May  I  have  a  turn  with  you  about  the  decks?  "  Miss 
Westbrook  asked  sweetly,  as  though  it  were  a  most  natural 
request.  "  No,  keep  your  pipe — I  don't  mind  it!  " 

"  Well,  I  like  that,"  blurted  out  Mins  in  a  scolding 
voice.  "  As  if  I  hadn't  spent  an  hour  trying  to " 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"You  don't  mind,  do  you?"  Miss  Westbrook  asked, 
resting  her  lustrous  eyes  on  Kirk's  face,  and  disregarding 
Mins's  protest. 

"  Indeed,  I'd  be  only  too  delighted,"  said  Kirk,  recover- 
ing himself,  and  respectfully  offering  his  hand  to  assist  her. 

She  rose  and  took  his  arm,  while  Mins,  rejoining  his 
astonished  companions,  gazed  after  the  pair — too  hurt  and 
too  surprised  even  to  flip. 

Kirk  was  very  much  embarrassed.  He  was  at  a  loss  for 
anything  to  say.  His  divinity  was  embarrassed  also,  and  a 
delicate  pink  tinged  her  face. 

"  You  must  help  me,"  she  murmured.  "  You  will  think 
it  very  strange — very  forward  perhaps,  but — but — I  hardly 
know  how  to  ask  such  a  favor,  but  those  men  are  so  curious 
about  me — not  rude — heaven  knows,  they  are  not  actually 
rude — it  would  be  easier  if  they  were — but  they  persecute 
me  with  little  attentions — with  questions  that  are  looked 
even  if  they  are  not  asked.  It  makes  me  very  uncomfortable. 
You  could  help  me  a  great  deal  if  you  wanted  to." 

Kirk  warmly  proffered  his  services. 

"  I  knew  you  would  say  that,"  she  returned.  "  Yet  it 
took  a  lot  of  courage  to  speak  to  you  like  that.  But  I  was 
driven  to  it — I  had  to — that  man  had  planted  himself  there 
for  the  day." 

"  But  what  is  it  you  wish  me  to  do?  "  asked  Kirk. 

"  Oh,  just  to  stand  between  me  and  the  world,"  she  said, 
looking  up  with  a  troubled  smile.  "  Is  it  too  much  to  ask? 
Talk  to  me,  sit  next  to  me  at  table — monopolize  me." 

Kirk  smiled,  too.  He  was  radiant  with  satisfaction.  A 
favor  indeed!  Why,  the  doors  of  paradise  were  opening 
before  him! 

"  There's  nothing  that  would  please  me  better,"  he  ex- 
claimed. 

116 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  You  must  have  found  it  hard,  too,"  she  said  significantly. 
"You  mean ?" 

"  Oh,  I  lied,"  returned  Kirk.  "  It's  none  of  their  busi- 
ness who  we  are.  A  man  has  to  protect  himself!  " 

Their  eyes  met  understandingly.  It  was  a  tacit  acknowl- 
edgment of  their  common  secret.  Kirk  was  tempted  to  put 
his  thoughts  into  words.  The  effect  of  them  on  his  com- 
panion was  disconcerting.  She  withdrew  her  arm,  and  im- 
petuously silenced  him. 

"  Don't  make  me  regret  my  decision,"  she  cried.  "  We 
know  what  we  know — but  it  isn't  to  be  spoken  of.  If  you 
will  not  consent  to  that — if  you  will  not  put  it  out  of  your 
mind  absolutely-^— I — I " 

"  Oh,  forgive  me,"  pleaded  Kirk.  "  I  shall  never  refer 
to  it  again.  Please  forgive  me !  " 

She  relented,  and  took  his  arm  again.  They  walked  aft 
and  leaned  over  the  taffrail,  watching  the  white  birds. 

"  I  wonder  where  we  are  going  to,"  she  said  at  last 
in  almost  a  whisper.  "  I  wonder  where  we  are  going  to!  " 
Then  she  broke  off  suddenly  with  a  frightened  laugh.  "  Oh, 
dear,  I'm  as  bad  as  you  are — I  must  keep  off  the  grass  myself. 
But  we  shall  be  good  friends,  shan't  we?  You  are  going 
to  live  up  to  my  good  opinion  of  you?  I  want  so  much  of 
you — so  much!  Is  it  a  bargain?  Men  are  so —  But  you 
are  different — I  can  see  you  are  different!  You'll  be 
good  to  me,  won't  you?  I  shall  be  so  helpless,  so  lost — if 
you  fail  me.  Do  you  know,  you  have  suddenly  become  the 
most  important  person  in  my  life !  " 

"  I  hardly  see  how,"  said  Kirk.  "  But  you  can  be  assured 
of  one  thing — I  will  serve  you  with  all  the  devotion  in  me, 
and  count  it  a  very  high  privilege." 

Their  hands  met  in  a  clasp  of  gratification. 
117 


THE  ADVENTURER 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  simply.  "  YouVe  lifted  a  load 
off  my  heart." 

This  was  the  beginning  of  an  intimacy  that  to  spectators 
appeared  closer  than  it  really  was.  It  was  more  the  friend- 
ship of  a  brother  and  sister,  long  separated,  almost  strangers, 
reunited  after  many  years.  The  pair  were  always  together. 
Their  chairs  were  always  side  by  side,  either  at  table  or  on 
deck.  They  walked  together,  read  together,  played  unend- 
ing games  of  cards  together.  It  was  a  confederacy  that  kept 
busybodies  at  a  distance.  So  loverlike  to  all  appearance  that 
the  hardiest  interloper  was  daunted.  Madame  Jeanne  Bel- 
liot,  Miss  Westbrook's  maid,  was  greatly  scandalized.  She 
was  a  thin,  middle-aged  woman  with  a  mouth  like  a  wolf, 
and  something  of  a  wolfs  disposition  —  jealous  and  cow- 
ardly, with  a  rasping  temper.  Her  lack  of  English  saved 
Kirk  many  passages  at  arms,  but  her  mistress,  in  the  seclusion 
of  their  little  cabin,  fared  less  well  at  the  grim  lady's  hands. 

Miss  Westbrook  confided  to  Kirk  that  she  was  an  intol- 
erable annoyance. 

"  I'm  going  to  send  her  back  from  Bolivar,"  she  said. 
"  I  can't  stand  her  any  more.  She  is  wearing  me  out.  Every 
day  she  gets  worse  and  more  religious.  Not  that  I  would 
mind  her  being  religious  if  she  would  keep  it  to  herself — 
but  she  gets  messages  from  God,  and  all  sorts  of  things — 
messages  to  me,  you  know,  transmitted  through  her  like  a 
telephone  central.  It  may  sound  absurd,  but  it  has  become 
absolutely  unbearable.  The  higher  powers  object  to  you. 
They  object  excessively  to  the  Orinoco  River.  They  order 
me  to  go  home  under  the  penalty  of  all  sorts  of  dreadful 
things.  You  see,  she  isn't  an  ordinary  maid.  She's  been 
with  us  so  long  that  she  has  gradually  got  to  own  the  family. 
Papa » 

118 


THE   ADVENTURER 

She  stopped,  and  turned  away  her  eyes  brimming  with 
tears.  The  mention  of  her  father  had  evidently  evoked  a 
painful  emotion.  It  was  some  time  before  she  recovered 
herself,  but  even  then  her  smile  was  a  little  tremulous,  and 
her  voice  still  poignant  with  thoughts  that  Kirk  was  not 
allowed  to  share. 

"  I  wouldn't  do  that,"  he  said,  referring  to  Madame  Bel- 
liot's  dismissal.  "  This  is  a  wild  country,  and  you  had  better 
put  up  with  her.  You  must  put  up  with  her!  It  would  be 
perfect  madness  to — to " 

"  I  have  you,"  she  returned,  half  pettishly,  half  in  fun. 
"  You  won't  let  the  tigers  eat  me,  will  you?  " 

"  Well,  I'm  hardly — the  equivalent  of  a — "  The  wide- 
open,  innocent  gray  eyes  abashed  him.  The  business  of  ex- 
plaining propriety  to  a  lovely,  young  creature  was  embar- 
rassing. But  Kirk  floundered  through  it,  genuinely  aghast. 
"  Besides,"  he  added,  treading  delicately  on  the  tabooed  sub- 
ject, "  our  roads  may  separate  at  Bolivar." 

Her  only  reply  was  a  look,  brilliant  and  enigmatic  in  its 
denial,  that  seemed  to  premise  a  greater  knowledge  of  his 
own  future  than  he  himself  possessed.  It  made  him  feel  that 
her  liking  for  him  was  not  a  caprice,  but  rather  the  result 
of  a  fellowship  that  she  recognized  and  accepted  while  yet 
keeping  him  in  the  dark.  In  some  strange  manner,  for  a 
while  at  least,  their  fates  were  joined.  Her  dependence  on 
him  was  not  a  favor,  but  a  right.  She  expected  him  to 
serve  her,  not  because  she  was  a  very  pretty  woman,  but  by 
reason  of  some  invisible  authority  that  was  invested  in  her 
— an  authority  that  he  dimly  felt  and  readily  acquiesced  in. 
It  was  a  singular  relation,  and  to  Kirk  a  very  precious  one. 
He  was  not  a  vain  man — he  did  not  think  to  presume  upon 
it.  He  was  grateful,  very  grateful.  He  was  her  dog,  to 
watch  over  and  protect  her,  and  he  asked  no  more  than  a 

119 


THE   ADVENTURER 

dog's  reward — toleration  and  a  friendly  pat  on  the  head. 
It  was  the  humbleness  of  a  great  love — a  love  that  asked  for 
nothing  and  gave  all — rare,  beautiful,  and  ennobling. 

As  they  drew  nearer  their  destination  she  seemed  to  lose 
courage  and  cling  to  him  the  more.  She  had  long,  sad  spells 
of  silence  which  he  forebore  to  break  in  on,  some  instinct 
withholding  him.  He  suited  himself  to  her  moods,  smoking 
his  pipe,  saying  nothing.  She  often  told  him  that  he  was  a 
great  comfort  to  her — a  great  consolation.  "  So  much  com- 
pany and  so  little  bother,"  she  said  naively.  "  So  big  and 
dependable  and  quiet.  I  have  a  lot  to  thank  you  for,  Mr. 
Kirkpatrick!" 

All  this  while  our  three  tiger  hunters  were  in  a  pother 
of  unsatisfied  and  burning  curiosity.  They  watched  Kirk's 
elevation  with  resentful  surprise.  To  be  cut  out  by  this 
chap  who  had  crossed  second  class  in  the  same  steamer  with 
them  was  intolerable,  insulting.  The  captain,  though  in- 
wardly boiling,  pretended  to  care  the  least,  and  was  too 
well  bred  a  man  to  pry  and  speculate.  Stiles  was  frankly 
a  gossip,  and  gave  up  his  whole  mind  to  the  solution  of  the 
mystery.  Mins,  of  a  coarser  fiber  than  either,  energetically 
waylaid  Kirk,  and  tried  to  flip  him  into  communicativeness. 
It  wasn't  altogether  to  the  credit  of  the  baronet  that  he 
was  so  willing  to  profit  by  Mins's  inquisitiveness,  and  even  to 
egg  him  on.  But  shipboard  life  is  demoralizing,  and  human 
nature,  confronted  by  a  mystery,  is  sadly  apt  to  lose  its 
head.  There  are  many  things  we  do  that,  when  set  in  type, 
appear  blacker  than  they  are.  Yet  it  must  be  confessed 
that  our  tiger  hunters  were  consumed  by  an  insatiable  curi- 
osity, and  hardly  had  any  other  topic  of  conversation. 
Morning,  noon,  and  night  they  kept  Kirk  and  Miss  West- 
brook  under  an  unceasing  surveillance,  and  teased  one  an- 
other with  unanswerable  questions. 

120 


THE   ADVENTURER 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  Bolivar  came  in  sight. 
A  low,  straggling  town  on  the  left  bank,  with  red-tiled 
roofs,  and  a  few  squalid  streets  losing  themselves  in  jungle. 
The  falls  that  barred  this  reach  of  the  Orinoco  were  not 
particularly  impressive,  and  suggested  more  an  artificial  dam, 
nine  or  ten  feet  high,  than  one  of  the  rocky  obstructions  of 
nature.  Above  the  falls  was  a  small,  rusty,  stern-wheel 
steamer,  together  with  three  singular  sailing  craft  of  the 
kind  that  penetrate  the  upper  waters  of  the  Orinoco.  The 
river  sailor  has  to  seek  his  wind  above  the  treetops  of  the 
forest,  and  for  this  purpose  has  to  rear  a  mast  astonishingly 
disproportionate  in  height  to  the  length  of  his  vessel.  This 
towering  stick,  as  lofty  as  a  ship's  mainmast,  and  similarly 
rattled,  bears  in  the  dizzy  sky  two  little  gimcrack  yards  on 
which  are  set  two  little  pocket-handkerchief  sails.  The  effect 
is  so  grotesque  that  the  eye  has  difficulty  in  accustoming 
itself  to  the  sight.  It  is  perpetually  startled,  and  cannot  see 
a  man  going  aloft  without  apprehension.  It  would  seem  as 
though  his  weight  would  topple  over  the  whole  crazy  struc- 
ture, and  lay  the  tiny  vessel  on  her  beam  ends. 

The  El  Capitan  moored  off  the  town,  and  was  at  once 
boarded  by  the  port  authorities.  There  was  the  inevitable 
animation  of  an  arriving  steamer — noisy  boatmen,  frantic 
passengers,  stacks  of  baggage,  gesticulating  functionaries. 
Jabber,  jabber,  jabber!  Exhibition  of  passports.  Assiduous 
stewards  waiting  to  be  tipped.  Winches  roaring.  Great 
wooden  lighters  hovering  vulturelike,  trying  to  fasten  them- 
selves on  the  corpse.  Nigger  boys  diving  for  small  silver. 
Hubbub,  fuss,  orders,  threats,  and  the  sharp  hiss  of  escaping 
steam. 

Kirk  and  Miss  Westbrook  had  drawn  aside.  Behind 
them,  on  a  camp  stool,  was  Madame  Belliot,  dejectedly 
eating  oranges,  and  resigning  herself  with  what  grace  she 

121 


THE   ADVENTURER 

could  to  being  deserted.  Miss  Westbrook  was  pale  and 
frightened.  She  was  holding  to  Kirk's  hand  like  a  child, 
and  shrank  close  to  him  as  people  passed  and  jostled  her. 
Kirk,  too,  was  uneasy,  and  his  eyes  searched  the  unfamiliar 
faces  for  some  gleam  of  recognition.  It  was  hard  to  resist 
the  conviction  that  something  had  gone  amiss — that  he  was 
not  to  be  met  and  taken  charge  of,  after  all.  The  destiny 
of  his  companion  fretted  him  even  more.  She  also  was 
waiting.  She,  also,  was  searching  the  faces  with  timid  per- 
sistence. Were  they  to  be  separated?  Was  he  to  stand 
there  and  do  nothing  while  she  was  led  away  by  some  of 
those  swarthy  cutthroats.  Why  had  she  not  trusted  him 
entirely?  Why  should  she  persist  in  screening  herself  in 
mystery?  By  so  doing  she  had  put  it  out  of  his  power  to 
help  her — to  advise  and  protect  her.  He  was  not  even 
allowed  to  speak  to  her.  Ah,  it  was  intolerable — cruel.  He 
had  earned  her  confidence.  He  had  earned  the  right  to  it. 
Yet  he  was  as  ignorant  as  Mins  over  there — Mins,  who  was 
slyly  watching  them  while  pretending  to  busy  himself  with 
gun  cases  and  packages. 

Kirk  noticed  a  halfbreed  Indian,  barefooted,  bareheaded, 
in  red-striped  pyjamas,  impassively  smoking  a  cigarette  be- 
side him.  He  was  short  and  thickset,  with  high  cheek 
bones  and  beady  eyes.  From  time  to  time  he  spat  on 
the  deck  and  rubbed  the  place  with  his  naked  foot.  Kirk 
disliked  his  proximity  and  edged  away.  But  the  half- 
breed  stuck  by  him.  His  persistency  annoyed  Kirk,  who 
was  about  to  shove  him  away  when  something  in  the  fel- 
low's manner  arrested  him.  The  beady  eyes  had  a  curious, 
seeking  look.  The  impassive  face  was  ambiguously  uplifted 
to  his. 

Kirk  chanced  it. 

"  Looking  for  anybody,  senor  ?  " 
122 


THE   ADVENTURER 

The  half-breed  drew  out  a  dirty  scrap  of  paper,  on  which 
Kirk  was  dumfounded  to  read,  "  Lewis  Kirkpatrick." 

There  was  a  moment  of  bewilderment,  of  stupefaction. 

The  half-breed  stolidly  continued  to  puff  at  his  cigarette. 

Kirk  produced  his  pass.  The  man  gazed  at  it  indif- 
ferently. Then  laying  his  hand  on  Kirk's  sleeve  he  made  a 
pantomime  of  leading  him  to  the  gangway. 

But  Miss  Westbrook  interfered.  Before  Kirk  could  real- 
ize what  she  was  doing,  she  had  drawn  the  Indian  out  of 
earshot,  and  was  speaking  to  him  in  a  low  and  agitated  voice. 
He  submitted  woodenly,  cigarette  in  mouth.  The  girl 
pleaded.  She  held  to  his  arm.  Her  face  was  paler  than 
ever,  and  almost  desperate.  But  the  creature  she  addressed 
made  no  sign.  His  beady  eyes  settled  themselves  on  a  little 
diamond  heart  at  her  neck.  She  unsnapped  it  and  offered  it 
to  him,  but  he  pushed  it  away.  She  turned  to  a  passing 
Venezuelan  officer,  who  stared  at  her  in  insolent  admiration, 
and  twirled  his  mustache.  There  ensued  a  colloquy  of 
three.  The  Venezuelan  officer  deftly  accepted  a  bank  note. 
Something  was  laboriously  explained  to  him,  and  by  him 
to  the  Indian.  The  latter's  masklike  face  relaxed.  It  grew 
dimly  comprehensive.  He  put  out  his  hand  and  patted  her 
on  the  shoulder — respectfully,  reassuringly,  stroking  her 
like  a  dog.  It  was  all  right.  He  understood.  This  way, 
please ! 

Kirk  and  Miss  Westbrook  resigned  themselves  to  him. 
Peons  seized  the  young  lady's  trunks — three  in  number — 
together  with  her  dressing  case  and  Kirk's  bag.  The  half- 
breed  came  behind,  urging  them  toward  the  gangway  as 
though  they  were  sheep.  The  whole  party  descended  into 
a  boat  and  shoved  off.  It  is  strange  how  naturally  one  ac- 
cepts a  leader  and  follows  him.  Kirk  made  no  demur.  The 
girl  was  as  submissive  as  himself.  They  smiled  at  each  other 
9  123 


THE  ADVENTURER 

and  acquiesced,  not  knowing  where  they  were  going.  The 
situation  was  even  piquant.  Kirk  said  it  reminded  him  of 
the  Babes  in  the  Wood.  High  above  them  Madame  Belliot 
alternately  waved  her  handkerchief  and  cried  into  it.  She 
seemed  the  emblem  of  a  disappearing  civilization — the  last 
outpost,  so  to  speak,  of  a  world  they  were  leaving  behind. 

They  brought  up  at  a  wharf,  landing  at  some  green, 
slimy  steps.  Here  were  customhouse  officers,  of  a  sullen 
and  slovenly  aspect,  who  had  things  their  own  way  for  twenty 
minutes.  But  the  little  men  were  very  polite  and  made  the 
ordeal  an  easy  one.  The  trunks  were  carried  into  the  boat 
again,  and  the  passengers  retook  their  seats,  and  a  course 
set  across  the  river  to  the  opposite  bank.  The  half-breed, 
by  way  of  conversation,  occasionally  stroked  his  charges  on 
the  back — an  ingenious  performance  of  the  good-dog-good- 
dog  order.  Kirk  stroked  him,  and  everybody  was  pleased. 

Grounding  on  the  shingle  the  crew  leaped  out  and 
dragged  the  boat  high  and  dry.  The  trunks  were  raised 
on  brawny  shoulders,  and  with  the  half-breed  leading  the 
whole  party  struck  inland.  The  track  was  rough;  the  trees 
met  overhead;  an  agreeable  twilight  relieved  the  eye  after 
the  glare  of  sun  and  water;  the  falls  boomed  dully  in  the 
distance.  It  was  all  a  singular  spectacle — the  trunks  pasted 
over  with  European  labels,  the  shuffling  peons,  the  leader 
in  his  red-striped  pyjamas,  Kirk  and  Miss  Westbrook  de- 
lightedly watching  the  parrots  overhead  as  though  they  had 
no  other  concern  in  life.  The  spirit  of  adventure  was  in 
them  both.  An  exhilarating  comradeship  animated  them.  It 
was  all  so  mad,  so  laughable !  What  were  they  doing  in  this 
extraordinary  zoo!  Where  was  Coffeecake  taking  them? 
They  had  caught  the  name  from  the  peons.  It  was  very 
close  to  Coffeecake,  anyhow.  Coffeecake!  How  they 
laughed!  What  fun  it  all  was!  Only  why  weren't  there 

124 


THE   ADVENTURER 

any  monkeys?  It  only  needed  monkeys  to  complete  the 
tropic  picture! 

The  road  turned,  paralleling  the  river.  They  were 
mounting  the  left  bank,  making  a  detour  that  would  bring 
them  out,  apparently,  above  the  falls.  The  trees  thinned. 
The  rusty  white  steamer  loomed  ahead,  coupled  to  the  shore 
by  a  plank.  Coffeecake's  steamer?  It  would  almost  seem 
so.  What  was  the  name,  in  faded  gilt,  on  the  front  of  the 
pilot  house?  Bis — yes — Bismarck!  The  S.  S.  Bismarck , 
Captain  Coffeecake!  Such  a  disreputable  old  Bismarck, 
with  the  paint  peeling  off  his  plates  and  several  floats  of  his 
stern  wheel  missing!  A  three-veranda  vessel,  so  to  speak, 
with  an  aged  engine  on  the  ground  floor.  Dirty,  dilapidated, 
down  at  the  heel — given  over  to  squalor  and  Coffeecake. 

They  passed  up  the  plank.  The  deck  was  piled  high  with 
firewood,  roughly  stacked,  with  little  lanes  running  in  and 
out.  Coffeecake  led  the  way  up  the  ladder  to  deck  number 
two.  More  firewood.  More  little  lanes.  A  shabby  saloon 
amidships,  with  four  cabins  off  it,  two  on  either  side.  Over 
the  door  of  one  was  a  brass  plate  marked  "  CAPTAIN."  Cof- 
feecake indicated  that  this  was  for  Miss  Westbrook,  and 
threw  it  open.  A  peon  within  was  busily  engaged  in  filling 
two  gunny  sacks  with  the  belongings  of  its  late  occupant. 
Razors,  pyjamas,  shoes,  underclothes — all  going  in  pellmell. 

"  Where  was  the  captain?  " 

"  Muerto,  senor" 

"Dead!" 

Gibberish  to  the  effect  that  the  cabin  would  soon  be  in 
good  shape.  Well-aired  bed,  fresh  sheets,  everything  to  the 
young  lady's  satisfaction! 

Across  the  way,  under  a  plate  marked  "  CHIEF  ENGI- 
NEER," was  the  door  of  Kirk's  cabin.  It  was  in  somewhat 
better  condition  than  the  other,  and  the  packing  process,  as 

125 


THE   ADVENTURER 

evidenced  by  a  stout  gunny  sack,  had  been  already  com- 
pleted. 

"  Where  was  the  chief  engineer,  then  ?  " 

"  Muerto,  senor!  " 

They  reached  the  top  deck  in  a  less  cheerful  frame  of 
mind.  "  Muerto,  senor,"  was  disturbing.  How  muerto? 
Whether  knife  or  fever,  it  seemed  equally  depressing.  The 
holiday  flavor  had  somehow  evaporated.  It  was  rather  a 
grim  little  steamboat  after  all.  Yes,  a  very  grim  little  steam- 
boat, with  dead  men's  beds  to  sleep  in.  Ugh !  Well,  he  had 
his  pistol,  and  Miss  Westbrook  had  a  two-ounce  bottle  of 
quinine.  But  it  was  all  a  trifle  creepy-crawly  just  the  same. 
There  were  several  empty  grass  hammocks  swinging  between 
the  stanchions.  Coffeecake  curled  up  in  one  and  went  to 
sleep.  Kirk  and  Miss  Westbrook  settled  themselves  respect- 
ively in  two  others,  and  wondered  what  was  going  to  happen 
next.  The  drowsy  afternoon  was  sinking  into  sunset,  and 
there  was  no  particular  indication  that  the  Bismarck  would 
ever  move.  The  pair  talked  together  in  low  tones.  Miss 
Westbrook  was  confident  it  was  fever  that  had  carried  off 
the  captain  and  the  chief  engineer.  It  was  a  frightful  coun- 
try— the  white  man's  grave.  They  must  boil  every  drop 
of  water  and  keep  out  of  the  sun.  No  gunny  sack  wind-up 
for  them. 

They  were  still  deep  in  these  reflections  when  there  arose 
a  shout  from  the  bank.  Coffeecake  roused  himself  and  went 
forward,  followed  by  his  two  passengers.  They  beheld  a 
peon  bearing  a  large  mail  bag.  He  hurried  up  the  gangplank, 
and  even  as  he  did  so  the  sleepy  Bismarck  awoke.  There 
was  a  rumbling  of  steam,  the  reverberation  of  engines,  the 
sound  of  guttural  orders.  Coffeecake  ran  up  into  the  pilot 
house  and  took  the  wheel.  Bells  jingled;  ropes  were  cast 
off;  the  plank  was  drawn  in;  and  before  Kirk  could  fully 

126 


THE   ADVENTURER 

realize  what  was  taking  place,  the  steamer  was  under  steer- 
ageway  and  swinging  out  into  the  stream. 

He  dashed  below  to  examine  the  bag,  which  was  lying 
on  the  forward  deck  where  the  peon  had  thrown  it. 

On  it  he  read : 

DR.   VON   ZEDTWITZ, 
ORINOCO  IMPROVEMENT  COMPANY,  BOLIVAR. 


127 


CHAPTER  XI 

IRK  had  seen  many  strange  places  in  the  course 
of  his  life,  and  had  found  himself  in  some 
queer  situations — but  in  all  his  adventurous 
past  there  had  been  nothing  to  compare  with 
the  Bismarck,  or  to  those  days  that  now  un- 
rolled themselves  before  him.  The  unending  river,  the  vast 
and  impenetrable  forests  on  either  hand,  the  mysterious  des- 
tination to  which  he  was  being  borne — all  stirred  him  with  a 
feeling  of  romance  that  he  had  not  known  since  boyhood. 
The  glamour  of  exotic  scenes  was  heightened  by  a  compan- 
ionship that  made  every  moment  precious.  There  were  but 
two  people  in  the  world — Vera  Westbrook  and  himself — 
and  what  lover  could  but  envy  him  ? 

Kirk  arranged  a  little  paradise  on  the  upper  deck.  Here 
were  their  hammocks,  a  table,  books,  binoculars,  chairs,  and 
a  canvas  screen  that  could  be  shifted  to  protect  them  from 
the  dazzling  glare.  This  camp  was  on  the  forward  part  of 
the  vessel,  so  that  they  had  but  to  raise  their  eyes  to  watch 
the  unfolding  panorama  before  them.  They  read  aloud  to 
each  other,  taking  up  the  book  in  turn.  They  talked,  dis- 
cussing the  imaginary  characters,  Vera  speaking  for  the 
women,  Kirk  for  the  men.  They  watched  monkeys  in  the 
treetops — parrots — alligators  on  sandy  banks.  And  above 
everything  they  laughed,  with  an  unfailing  entertainment 
in  the  trifles  that  made  up  their  day.  The  laughter  of  happy 
comradeship,  the  gayest  laughter  of  all,  springing  from  that 
delicious  contentment  which  has  its  source  in  love. 

128 


THE   ADVENTURER 

Kirk  knew  she  liked  him.  'But  beyond  that  he  was 
baffled,  not  knowing  what  to  think.  She  was  so  frank,  so 
confiding,  so  trustful,  that  the  actual  freedom  of  their  inter- 
course disquieted  him.  It  seemed  to  imply  on  her  part  a 
regard  in  which  the  heart  had  no  concern.  Kirk  dimly  felt 
that  her  very  friendship  precluded  a  more  tender  sentiment. 
There  was  nothing  of  the  pursuer  and  the  pursued  in  their 
relation.  If  Kirk,  with  the  ardor  of  a  man  deeply  in  love, 
ventured  at  times  to  press  his  suit,  she  at  once  froze,  and 
made  him  understand  with  a  sweet  imperiousness  that  he  was 
presuming  on  forbidden  ground.  He  became  instantly  con- 
scious that  here  he  had  to  deal  with  another  woman,  and  his 
surprise,  almost  humiliation,  was  most  painful.  A  woman 
separated  from  him  by  a  thousand  barriers  of  caste  and 
position,  whose  condescension  he  had  been  fool  enough  to 
misunderstand.  It  made  him  realize  that  it  was  her  supe- 
riority which  permitted  the  singular  friendship  to  exist  be- 
tween them.  The  great  are  always  most  gracious  in  their 
treatment  of  those  beneath  them.  The  true  aristocrat  is  a 
much  better  hand  at  unbending  than  the  grocer. 

Kirk  never  felt  so  sure  of  being  in  her  good  graces  as 
when  he  could  make  her  smile.  He  was  all  right  so  long  as 
he  treated  her  as  a  charming  boy  whom  chance  had  thrown 
in  his  path.  But  let  him  grow  serious,  and  she  shrank  into 
her  girlish  armor — with  a  vexation,  a  resentment,  that  was 
not  to  be  easily  appeased.  Love,  or  the  pretense  of  love,  was 
utterly  out  of  the  question.  It  affronted  her,  and  Kirk  soon 
learned  to  submit  himself  to  her  will.  This  renunciation  cost 
him  some  bitter  moments.  It  was  the  price  he  had  to  pay 
for  her  toleration  of  him — for  her  kindness  and  camaraderie. 
At  times  he  grudged  the  price,  and  was  moody  and  heart- 
sick. He  was  given  so  much  and  so  little. 

She  had  no  compunction  in  drawing  him  out  about  him- 
129 


THE   ADVENTURER 

self.  Her  rule  of  reticence  was  extraordinarily  one-sided. 
He  had  to  tell  everything,  and  lay  his  whole  life  bare,  while 
she  remained,  as  she  had  begun — a  mystery.  He  was  at  a 
loss  even  to  guess  her  nationality.  She  was  not  English,  and 
yet  she  seemed  not  to  be  American.  She  appeared  to  him  a 
stepchild  of  both,  a  delightful  cosmopolitan,  with  a  dash  of 
French  thrown  in.  She  was  familiar  with  all  these  coun- 
tries, and  apparently  much  at  home  in  each.  At  any  rate, 
London,  Washington,  and  Paris  were  constantly  on  her  lips. 
She  passed  indifferently  from  the  one  to  the  other,  somehow 
conveying  in  her  manner  that  she  had  a  place  in  all  three. 
Kirk  learned  only  one  definite  thing  about  her,  which  was 
that  her  mother  had  died  when  she  was  yet  a  child,  leaving 
her,  as  she  expressed  it,  "  with  a  father  to  take  care  of." 
The  mention  of  her  father,  as  always,  plunged  her  into  a 
reverie.  She  would  hastily  change  the  subject,  though  her 
face  would  remain  overcast  for  an  hour  afterwards,  and 
her  gayety  become  forced  and  unnatural.  There  was  little 
doubt  that  her  journey  had  some  connection  with  her  father. 
It  almost  seemed,  indeed,  that  she  was  going  to  him.  Though 
the  why  and  wherefore  of  it  racked  Kirk's  head  with  un- 
answerable conjectures. 

The  third  person  in  their  strange  life  was  Coffeecake. 
This  astounding  mariner  was  everything  on  that  ship,  from 
captain  to  cabin  boy.  Kirk  and  Miss  Westbrook  saw  nothing 
of  the  crew,  who  pigged  together  on  the  engine  deck,  and 
never  trespassed  above,  save  at  times  to  relieve  Coffeecake  in 
the  pilot  house.  Coffeecake  housemaided  their  cabins.  Cof- 
feecake brought  them  their  unassuming  meals.  Coffeecake 
smoothed  them  down,  literally,  with  a  large,  brown  hand 
whenever  they  seemed  to  him  out  of  spirits  or  in  need  of 
sympathy  or  affection.  It  was  Coffeecake  who,  when  doubt- 
ful of  his  course,  or  perhaps  to  ascertain  his  position — the 

130 


THE   ADVENTURER 

question  was  never  actually  determined — tasted  the  water 
in  which  they  floated,  and  with  connoisseurlike  sips  out  of  a 
tin  can  solved  wonderful  problems  of  river  navigation.  He 
was  capable  of  tucking  them  in  at  night  or  hearing  them  say 
their  prayers.  The  will,  at  any  rate,  was  never  wanting, 
and  there  was  a  kind-uncle  quality  in  his  attentions  that 
was  most  endearing. 

The  meals  he  served  were  as  queer  as  anything  else  con- 
nected with  the  Bismarck.  A  can  of  some  kind  of  meat, 
presumably  chosen  at  random,  together  with  a  can  of  vege- 
tables, similarly  picked  out.  Add  ship's  biscuits  ad  lib  and 
a  steaming  pot  of  chocolate  flavored  with  cinnamon — and 
there  was  lunch  or  breakfast  or  dinner,  as  the  case  might 
be.  He  seemed  to  be  guided  by  the  pictures  on  the  can.  A 
bullock  stood  for  beef,  a  sheep  for  mutton,  and  so  on.  Once 
he  was  in  the  act  of  opening  a  can  on  which  was  the  effigy  of 
a  red  devil  (it  was  deviled  tongue)  when  the  label  caught 
his  eye,  and  he  suddenly  stopped  transfixed.  He  pointed  at 
the  red  apparition  with  his  finger,  and  with  a  nauseated  ex- 
pression ran  to  the  rail  and  threw  it  overboard. 

Coffeecake  drew  the  line  at  canned  devil! 

This  rough  and  ready  housekeeping  was  answerable  for 
some  unheard-of  combination  of  meat  and  vegetable,  lob- 
ster and  green  peas,  sardines  and  sauerkraut,  sausages  and 
asparagus.  Once  they  sat  down  to  plum  pudding  and  string 
beans.  But  the  chocolate  was  excellent  in  spite  of  its  pecul- 
iar flavoring,  and  though  the  diet  could  not  be  called  luxuri- 
ous, they  made  out  well  enough,  and  enjoyed  these  artless 
meals  with  the  relish  that  comes  from  long  days  passed  in 
the  open  air. 

At  sundown  the  Bismarck  tied  up  beside  the  bank,  and 
the  toils  and  perils  of  the  day  were  over.  Coffeecake  usually 
chose  a  sandy  beach  to  moor  by,  explaining  that  tigers  and 


THE   ADVENTURER 

snakes  dreaded  these  open  places  and  were  careful  to  avoid 
them.  Whether  this  was  true  or  not  they  certainly  saw 
no  sign  of  either,  although  on  one  occasion  they  heard  a 
curious,  sobbing  sound,  like  that  of  a  peevish  child,  which 
Correecake  declared  to  come  from  a  jaguar.  The  half-breed 
would  not  allow  his  charges  to  land,  dissuading  them  by  a 
pantomime  of  the  awful  things  that  might  happen  if  they 
did  so.  It  was  noticeable  that  the  crew,  who  were  withheld 
by  no  such  prohibition,  kept  fairly  close  together,  and  when 
ashore  never  separated  by  more  than  a  few  yards.  Man, 
in  this  region,  held  nature  in  a  very  uncertain  bondage,  and 
single-handed  was  no  match  for  his  myriad  enemies. 

These  silent  nights  followed  as  an  exquisite  relief  to  the 
sultriness  and  glare  of  the  daytime.  A  full  moon  lit  the 
sky,  the  air  was  cool  and  hushed,  the  dark  and  broken  forest 
gave  back  no  sound,  and  the  ear  was  untroubled  save  by  the 
ripple  of  water  along  the  keel.  To  survey  it  all  from  the 
height  of  the  upper  deck  was  a  joy  not  easy  to  put  into 
words.  It  was  a  beauty  that  hurt,  a  beauty  that  stirred  the 
heart  with  a  peculiar  poignance;  one  was  humbled  without 
knowing  why,  distressed  and  moved  by  a  profound  and  tender 
melancholy. 

Side  by  side  Kirk  and  Vera  Westbrook  would  look  down, 
often  not  exchanging  a  word,  but  more  drawn  together,  more 
subtly  in  accord  than  they  ever  were  at  any  other  time  in  the 
day.  The  spell  of  that  untrodden  wilderness  was  upon  them, 
the  spell  of  the  moon,  of  the  tropic  night,  of  strange  and 
exotic  scenes.  Their  crazy  steamer  seemed  a  sort  of  citadel, 
from  which,  secure  and  guarded,  they  gazed  at  the  savage 
landscape  as  though  from  some  magic  carpet  borne  by  genii. 
They  had  no  map;  they  knew  nothing  of  the  windings  of 
that  mighty  river  on  which  day  by  day  they  steamed  into 
the  heart  of  the  continent;  they  knew  only  that  civilization 

132 


THE   ADVENTURER 

was  receding,  and  that  before  them  was  the  still  and  shining 
Orinoco  with  its  secrets  yet  untold. 

A  week  went  by  and  brought  with  it  no  interruption  of 
their  voyage.  They  passed  a  few  villages  desolately  set  on 
the  edge  of  the  forest,  with  boats  drawn  up  on  the  river 
beach,  much  like  rows  of  alligators.  Lifeless  little  hamlets, 
consisting  of  a  dozen  tumble-down  sheds,  roofed  with  thatch. 
The  glass  showed  some  recumbent  figures  in  hammocks, 
naked  children,  and  pigs.  Coffeecake  did  not  care  to  stop 
at  any  of  them.  He  made  unintelligible  gestures  of  disappro- 
bation. No  villages  for  Coffeecake.  He  preferred  the  pri- 
meval forest  and  the  sand  bank. 

Eight  days,  nine  days,  ten  days — they  had  almost  lost 
count.  A  drowsy  routine  had  settled  on  them,  a  drowsy 
contentment  and  laissez-faire.  Kirk  would  willingly  have 
gone  on  forever  to  the  end  of  his  allotted  span.  But  this, 
of  course,  was  not  to  be.  There  is  a  conclusion  to  every- 
thing. The  Bismarck,  one  torrid  noon,  slowed  down  beside 
a  ramshackle  wharf,  from  which  a  path  led  up  to  a  couple 
of  large  wooden  sheds.  A  few  Indians  were  there  to  meet 
them  with  a  bullock  wagon.  It  was  an  ungainly,  prairie- 
schooner  affair,  with  a  tentlike  top  of  canvas,  and  was 
drawn  by  three  yoke  of  oxen.  Into  it  were  put  Miss  West- 
brook's  trunks,  Kirk's  belongings,  and  the  mail  bag,  together 
with  some  hammocks,  canned  stuff,  and  camp  kettles.  The 
day  was  suffocatingly  hot.  The  very  air  shivered  with  heat. 
The  Babes  in  the  Wood  sat  on  an  empty  gin  case  and 
watched  the  proceedings  with  immense  depression.  They 
were  too  dizzy  and  blinded  to  have  any  curiosity  left.  Even 
the  news  that  Coffeecake  was  to  accompany  them  did  little 
to  raise  their  spirits.  They  felt  like  Shadrack,  Meshak,  and 
Abednego  in  the  fiery  furnace,  and  could  do  nothing  but 
mop  their  faces  and  gasp.  But  the  indefatigable  Coffeecake 

133 


THE   ADVENTURER 

took  command,  bustled  about,  and  gradually  got  things  into 
shape. 

The  Babes  in  the  Woods  were  invited  to  get  in,  which 
they  did,  although  with  no  particular  enthusiasm.  The  Bis- 
marck looked  cool  and  inviting  compared  to  this  stifling  cart, 
innocent  of  springs  and  grilling  in  the  sun.  Coffeecake  gave 
the  word  to  move.  The  oxen  were  goaded  forward  with 
hoarse  cries  and  the  thrusts  of  long  and  sharp-pointed  sticks. 
The  ponderous  wagon  started,  jolting  and  creaking  like  a 
field  piece  on  the  march.  The  expedition  was  off,  laboriously 
doing  three  miles  an  hour,  Coffeecake  leading  with  his 
pyjama  jacket  negligently  carried  over  one  arm,  and  his  bare 
brown  back  glistening  with  sweat. 

The  road,  though  narrow,  was  surprisingly  good.  There 
were  culverts  to  prevent  it  from  bogging  in  the  rain,  and 
rough,  substantial  bridges  over  the  streams.  It  followed 
the  river,  rising  gradually  as  the  banks  grew  steeper  and 
more  precipitous,  and  occasionally  made  a  detour  inland  to 
avoid  some  jutting  promontory  or  impassable  cliff.  It  was  a 
clever  piece  of  engineering,  and  Kirk,  who  himself  had 
had  some  acquaintance  with  roadmaking,  eyed  it  with 
approval.  Blasting  had  not  been  shirked,  and  the  gra- 
dients were  consistently  gentle.  The  man  who  had  laid  it 
out  had  been  an  expert,  and  his  skill  and  foresight  were 
evident  on  every  hand.  No  Venezuelan  assuredly,  but 
some  long-headed  foreigner  with  Molesworth  at  his  fin- 
gers' ends. 

A  few  miles  brought  them  high  above  the  Orinoco,  over- 
looking some  rapids.  Here  was  the  explanation  of  the  de- 
serted Bismarck.  She  could  go  no  farther.  From  the  falls 
of  Bolivar  to  this  second  barrier  was  the  limit  of  her  activity. 
The  view  grew  more  bold  and  picturesque  as  they  toiled 
along  the  cliffs.  The  river  whitened  below  them,  a  wild 

134 


THE   ADVENTURER 

and  flashing  torrent,  toiling  furiously  between  narrowing 
walls  of  rock. 

The  grandeur  of  the  scene  was  intensified  by  its  utter 
loneliness.  Forest,  sky,  and  roaring  river,  but  of  man  no 
sign.  Forest,  forest,  forest,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach. 
A  savage  wilderness,  somber  and  frowning,  as  unconquered 
to-day  as  it  was  a  thousand  years  ago.  Human  presumption 
faltered  before  the  untamed  majesty  of  nature.  It  was  some 
little  time  before  Kirk  could  assert  himself,  and  guess  at  the 
horse  power  that  was  going  to  waste.  It  was  not  easy  to 
resist  the  awe  that  the  sight  inspired,  but  once  he  had  said 
"  horse  power  "  he  felt  better,  and  shook  off  his  momentary 
humility.  A  tiger  becomes  less  a  tiger  when  you  have  ven- 
tured to  forecast  the  value  of  its  skin.  It  brings  you  back 
to  good  dry  land.  A  man  can  then  hold  up  his  head  again, 
and  unflinchingly  take  his  place  in  the  scheme  of  things. 
Ignoble  if  you  like,  but  such  is  the  lord  of  creation,  and  the 
underlying  instincts  that  have  raised  him  to  kingship.  A 
practical  beggar,  eager  always  to  get  something  for  nothing. 

It  took  Kirk  and  Vera  a  long  time  to  learn  that  they 
did  not  have  to  remain  in  the  wagon.  At  last  they  revolted, 
got  out  and  walked,  and  joined  Coffeecake  at  the  head  of 
the  procession.  The  girl  raised  a  pink  silk  parasol,  and  Kirk 
stuffed  leaves  in  the  crown  of  his  sombrero,  and  thus  pro- 
tected from  the  sun  they  exchanged  the  wagon  for  a  much 
easier  mode  of  progression.  Indeed,  their  principal  trouble 
was  to  relax  their  gait  so  as  not  to  outstrip  the  oxen  alto- 
gether. It  was  a  most  loitering  and  snaillike  business,  with 
long  rests  beside  the  road,  and  fatiguingly  tedious.  The 
wagon  moved  just  fast  enough  to  constantly  interrupt  them 
in  some  cosy  little  talk,  and  just  slow  enough  to  make  steady 
walking  impossible.  Of  course,  they  might  have  gone  on  in 
advance  and  dropped  the  main  body  behind  them,  but  this 

135 


THE   ADVENTURER 

was  where  Coffeecake  came  in  with  a  stern  prohibition.  He 
indicated  that  he  was  accountable  for  their  safety,  and  that 
anything  in  the  nature  of  a  jaguar  incident  was  likely  to 
cost  him  dear.  They  were  both  a  little  incredulous  by  now 
of  this  jagaur  that  had  been  so  consistently  foisted  upon 
them  ever  since  leaving  Bolivar.  But  it  was  not  easy  to 
argue  with  Coffeecake,  especially  as  it  involved  one  in  a 
sort  of  personal  encounter  in  which  he  yowled,  bit  your 
shoulder,  and  went  through  with  a  blood-curdling  panto- 
mime of  scratching  the  skin  off  your  face.  In  anything  like 
a  disagreement  Coffeecake  always  came  out  on  top. 

At  sundown,  after  having  accomplished  about  fifteen 
miles,  they  arrived  at  a  large  bamboo  shed,  roofed  with  gal- 
vanized iron.  The  wagon  was  driven  into  it,  and  the  oxen 
unyoked,  while  Coffeecake  started  a  camp  fire  and  busied 
himself  in  preparing  supper.  It  was  a  wild  and  lonely  spot 
in  a  little  clearing  overlooking  the  river  far  below.  The 
disregarded  jaguar,  who  in  the  sunlight  had  been  scorned 
and  derided,  became  much  more  real  as  the  shades  of  night 
began  to  fall.  Not  that  he  betrayed  himself  in  any  tangible 
form,  but  the  glancing  firelight  showed  what  seemed  to  be 
his  eyes  staring  at  them  out  of  the  gloom,  and  every  rustle 
was  ascribed  to  his  stealthy  approach  as  he  crouched  down 
before  his  spring.  Coffeecake,  like  some  good,  old,  darkey 
mammy  with  a  bugaboo  up  the  chimney,  made  a  wonderful 
and  capricious  use  of  his  ally.  He  invented  or  pooh-poohed 
jaguars  as  best  suited  his  own  purposes.  Without  this 
phantom  his  authority  would  have  been  shorn  of  half  its 
strength.  Propose  something  he  did  not  like,  and  there  was 
a  fancy  picture  of  a  jaguar  meowing  for  blood.  Express 
a  fear  of  jaguars  on  some  other  occasion,  and  he  would  smile 
pityingly  at  your  needless  alarm,  and  dismiss  the  subject  with 
a  few  reassuring  pats. 

136 


THE   ADVENTURER 

Vera's  hammock  was  slung  inside  the  wagon,  a  poncho 
was  draped  over  the  front,  and  in  this  compact  little  bower 
she  was  left  for  the  night.  The  rest  of  the  party  slept  on 
the  ground  round  the  fire,  Kirk  with  his  Mauser  pistol 
under  the  rough  pillow  he  had  made  of  grass.  It  had  never 
occurred  to  him  to  be  afraid  of  anything  on  the  Bismarck; 
but  here,  in  this  outlandish  outpost  of  the  woods,  he  felt 
the  need  of  being  armed  and  ready  for  any  emergency  that 
might  arise.  He  slept  badly.  He  was  restless  and  appre- 
hensive. His  head  was  racked  by  conjectures  and  fore- 
bodings. The  mystery  in  which  he  had  so  long  moved  sud- 
denly became  intolerable.  Where  was  he  being  taken? 
What  was  the  meaning  of  it  all?  Who  were  these  unseen 
people  who  were  using  him  as  a  pawn  in  their  extraordinary 
enterprise?  And  strangest  of  all,  what  could  Vera  West- 
brook  have  to  do  with  it?  What  inducement,  or  compul- 
sion, could  be  sufficient  to  force  her  to  face  such  perils?  It 
was  impossible  to  conceive  anything  more  reckless  or  des- 
perate. He  trembled  to  think  of  the  risks  she  had  run — 
of  the  chances  she  had  taken  so  unconcernedly.  No,  not 
unconcernedly — there  had  been  times  when  she  was  fright- 
ened— when  he  had  seen  her  quail  and  lose  heart — when 
(in  spirit  at  least)  she  had  clung  to  him,  her  courage  gone, 
her  vivid  face  stained  with  tears. 

Kirk  awoke  greatly  refreshed.  He  put  by  these  disturb- 
ing questions  that  had  harassed  him  over  night.  A  delicious 
morning  brought  with  it  acquiescence  and  philosophy.  Se- 
crets ?  Mysteries  ?  Oh,  he  would  unravel  them  fast  enough. 
Possibly  even  too  soon.  There  was  at  least  another  day  that 
he  could  share  with  Vera,  and  ramble  and  talk  and  laugh 
without  a  thought  of  the  future  or  of  separation.  The  most 
delightful  of  all  intimacies,  and  none  the  less  precious  that 
it  might  at  any  moment  be  snatched  from  him.  They  had 

137 


THE   ADVENTURER 

an  exhilarating  breakfast  together  on  the  floor,  while  the 
oxen  were  being  yoked  again  under  the  directions  of  Coffee- 
cake.  This  paternal  and  shiny-skinned  individual  had  greatly 
endeared  himself  to  the  Babes  in  the  Wood.  They  sang 
his  praises  over  their  cinnamon  chocolate,  and  unanimously 
voted  him  six  suits  of  new  striped  pyjamas.  The  worthy 
fellow  had  earned  them  twenty  times  over.  The  only  trouble 
was  that  the  will  had  to  be  taken  for  the  deed.  It  was  one 
of  those  fairy  tale  rewards,  obtainable  at  the  end  of  the  rain- 
bow, or  some  other  similar  and  unlikely  emporium.  Under 
these  circumstances  Kirk  thought  they  might  generously 
raise  the  number  to  a  dozen.  Why  not  be  prodigal  when 
they  were  about  it  ?  Yes,  a  dozen — and  silk  at  that ! 

The  day  was  a  repetition  of  the  one  before.  They  had 
almost  to  walk  backwards  to  keep  up  with  the  oxen.  Crawl, 
crawl,  crawl,  with  stops  under  shady  trees  and  long  con- 
fidential talks.  A  picnic  sort  of  day,  passed  amid  noble  and 
striking  scenes,  with  random  strolls  off  the  road  to  look  down 
at  the  river  beneath.  By  two  o'clock  it  grew  so  unsupport- 
ably  hot  that  they  took  shelter  in  the  wagon,  and  played 
games  of  cards  on  the  jolting  floor,  peeping  out  at  times 
to  keep  tab  on  the  Orinoco.  Kirk  said  he  had  grown  so  at- 
tached to  the  old  river  that  he  did  not  wish  to  lose  it;  to 
which  Vera  replied,  with  sparkling  ambiguity,  that  he  need 
not  be  afraid  "  as  there  was  a  good  deal  of  it  left!  "  Kirk 
asked  her  what  she  meant,  but  she  evaded  the  question  by 
trumping  his  king,  and  turning  him  off  with  a  smile  that 
might  have  meant  much  or  nothing. 

Night  was  falling  as  they  entered  a  little  village  beside 
the  river.  It  was  a  place  with  twenty  or  thirty  houses,  and 
the  whole  population  came  out  to  greet  them.  A  hundred 
people  at  least,  chattering  like  so  many  monkeys,  and  mob- 
bing the  wagon  as  though  a  circus  had  come  to  town.  They 

138 


THE   ADVENTURER 

were  all  Indians,  of  varying  shades  of  swarthiness  and  dirt; 
a  squalid,  noisy  crowd,  with  inquisitive  hands  and  jeering, 
guttural  voices.  They  accompanied  the  wagon  to  the  water's 
edge,  where,  moored  to  the  bank,  was  a  small  stern-wheel 
steamer,  hardly  bigger  than  a  fair-sized  launch.  This  vessel 
was  the  only  civilized  looking  object  in  San  Fernando  de 
Atabapo.  She  was  a  smart  little  craft,  with  an  upper  deck, 
awninged  over  fore  and  aft,  giving  her  a  top-heavy  look,  as 
though  the  merest  puff  might  send  her  over.  A  lantern 
glimmered  on  her  main  deck,  illuminating  the  figure  of  a  soli- 
tary white  man.  He  was  of  middle  age,  stout,  big,  and  fair, 
with  untrimmed  beard  and  hair  that  gave  him  the  appear- 
ance of  a  blonde  gorilla.  Kirk  found  himself  shaking  a 
large  and  friendly  hand  and  listening  to  a  large  and  friendly 
voice.  All  belonged  to  Captain  de  Ruyter,  late  of  the  Dutch 
Navy,  who  introduced  himself  in  accents  that  suggested  he 
held  a  golf  ball  in  his  mouth. 

"  How  many?  "  he  asked. 

"  Two,"  said  Kirk.     "  Myself,  and— this  young  lady!  " 

"Leddy!"  exclaimed  Captain  de  Ruyter.  "Go//  im 
Himmel,  what  is  dass  you  say?  " 

"  I  am  Mr.  Westbrook's  daughter,"  said  Vera,  stepping 
forward  and  laying  her  hand  on  his  sleeve. 

The  ex-naval  officer  straightened  himself  and  saluted. 
He  became  instantly  deferential,  clicking  his  heels,  and  stand- 
ing to  attention. 

"  Captain  de  Ruyter,  madam !  At  your  service,  madam !  " 
he  said. 

"  May  I  have  a  few  words  with  you  alone,  captain?" 
she  asked. 

The  blonde  gorilla  respectfully  led  her  aft,  guiding  her 
past  the  obstructions  of  the  deck  with  deep-voiced  warnings 
and  apologies.    Kirk  was  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  do  with 
10  139 


THE  ADVENTURER 

himself,  and  after  lingering  a  couple  of  minutes  in  indecision, 
he  finally  mounted  to  the  deck  above  and  seated  himself  on 
a  bench.  It  was  a  clear  and  tranquil  night.  The  stars  were 
reflected  in  the  water,  shimmering  like  little  streaks  of  fire. 
Coffeecake's  voice  was  heard  above  the  uproar  of  the  crowd, 
fiercely  jabbering  in  mingled  entreaty,  expostulation,  and 
command.  A  flaming  torch  silhouetted  the  nearer  houses, 
enhancing  their  strange  and  foreign  aspect.  In  all  his  wan- 
derings Kirk  had  never  experienced  such  a  sense  of  wildness, 
remoteness,  and  savagery.  Never  had  he  felt  so  immeasurably 
far  from  the  world  of  civilization.  Even  in  Arorai  he  had 
had  the  fellowship  of  the  sea,  that  illimitable  highway  which 
bound  him  to  Sydney,  San  Francisco,  and  all  those  haunts  of 
men.  No  ocean  could  seem  as  impenetrable  as  those  forests 
that  now  hemmed  him  in — those  wastes  of  jungle,  swamp,  and 
unmapped  mountains.  He  was  in  the  very  heart  of  South 
America,  and  as  he  gazed  across  the  Orinoco  he  realized  that 
he  was  in  a  country  less  known  than  Africa — untrodden  and 
unexplored — save  on  the  fringes  of  those  giant  rivers  that 
alone  had  been  penetrated  by  the  trader  and  the  orchid 
hunter. 

The  little  vessel  shivered  beneath  him.  Her  propeller 
slowly  revolved.  She  glided  past  the  village,  and  headed 
upstream. 

"  By  Jove,  they  were  off!  " 


140 


CHAPTER   XII 

HE  Moltke — such  was  her  name — was  as 
clean  and  cosy  as  a  little  yacht.  In  con- 
trast with  the  Bismarck  she  was  a  miniature 
palace.  They  dined  that  night  in  a  brightly 
lighted  cabin,  waited  on  by  an  Indian  stew- 
ard in  a  white  jacket.  The  quarters  were  cramped,  every- 
thing was  on  a  toy  scale,  but  Captain  de  Ruyter  maintained 
the  amenities  of  civilization  in  spite  of  almost  insurmountable 
difficulties.  The  dinner  consisted  of  several  courses,  each  of 
them  excellent ;  there  were  napkins,  silverware,  finger  bowls, 
and  black  coffee  in  little  cups,  all  in  extraordinary  contrast 
to  Coffeecake's  pell-mell  housekeeping.  There  was  evidently 
an  understanding  between  Captain  de  Ruyter  and  Miss 
Westbrook.  The  former  talked  gravely  on  impersonal 
topics — the  difficulty  of  keeping  meat  without  ice,  the  taste- 
lessness  of  monkeys,  the  delicious  flavor  of  a  certain  kind  of 
eel.  The  stout  Hollander  was  a  great  gourmand,  and,  to 
judge  from  his  random  observations,  devoted  most  of  his 
attention  to  the  galley. 

It  was  strange  to  sit  there — as  Kirk  did — and  politely 
make  conversation  out  of  generalities,  while  questions  rose  to 
his  lips  he  could  not  ask,  nor  even  dare  to  look.  Vera  was 
as  composed  as  though  she  were  seated  at  the  table  of  some 
ocean  liner,  with  New  York  or  Liverpool  awaiting  her  at 
the  end  of  the  trip.  She  was  in  noticeably  good  spirits,  and 
her  laughter  and  gayety  captivated  Kirk,  and  soon  caused 
him  to  forget  everything  in  the  charm  of  her  presence;  but 

141 


THE   ADVENTURER 

he  was  mystified,  nevertheless,  and  his  eyes  often  sought  her 
face  in  a  sort  of  bewilderment.  It  was  not  lost  on  him  that 
Captain  de  Ruyter  treated  her  with  the  respect  that  bordered 
on  servility.  He  would  stop,  even  in  the  midst  of  such 
exciting  sentences  as  "  then  you  stoff  him  with  chestnuts, 
and  laying  him — "  at  the  merest  hint  of  her  wishing  to 
speak  or  perhaps  to  motion  to  the  steward  for  another  roll. 
From  de  Ruyter's  manner  toward  her  she  might  have  been 
a  queen,  and  she  accepted  it  as  her  right,  greatly  to  Kirk's 
perplexity.  She  was  not  above  enjoying  the  impression  it 
made  upon  him,  and  assumed  the  role  so  sweetly  and  gra- 
ciously that  Kirk's  heart  ached  with  the  sense  of  the  gulf 
opening  between  them. 

The  next  morning  it  was  even  worse.  The  captain  had 
given  up  his  cabin  to  her,  and  she  had  thus  been  enabled  to 
draw  on  her  trunks  and  make  a  toilet.  She  appeared  at 
breakfast  as  radiant  and  dainty  as  though  she  had  stepped 
straight  out  of  Trouville.  Kirk  was  abashed  at  the  contrast 
he  presented  to  her,  in  his  serge  trousers  and  flannel  shirt. 
It  seemed  to  exemplify  a  change  in  their  circumstances  that 
made  it  an  incredible  presumption  for  him  to  love  her.  She 
perceived  his  moodiness,  and  perhaps  divined  its  cause,  and 
unbent  to  him  with  so  charming  a  grace — courted  back  his 
good  humor  with  such  sparkling  glances  and  little  caressing 
ways — that  his  bitterness  turned  into  an  unreasonable  delight, 
and  he  forgot  everything  in  the  ecstasy  of  the  moment. 

The  Moltke  had  left  the  Orinoco  near  the  tumble-down 
settlement,  and  was  steaming  up  one  of  its  tributaries,  named 
the  Inirida.  It  was  a  shallower  stream,  but  with  the  same 
densely  forested  banks,  and  its  tortuous  channels  gave  the 
effect  of  a  series  of  lakes,  one  unfolding  after  another  in 
an  unending  succession.  Although  the  Moltke  only  drew 
four  feet  of  water,  it  took  careful  piloting  to  keep  her  off 

142 


THE   ADVENTURER 

the  shoals  and  sand  banks,  and  more  than  once  she  actually 
grazed  the  bottom  and  muddied  the  water  with  the  impact. 

Captain  de  Ruyter  concerned  himself  not  at  all  with  this 
feature  of  his  command.  His  energies  were  all  directed 
toward  housewifery,  and  the  ship  was  left  to  run  herself. 
There  were  some  half-naked  Coffeecakes  to  attend  to  this, 
leaving  the  indefatigable  Dutchman  free  for  more  absorb- 
ing duties.  He  was  one  of  those  old  maids  of  the  sea  to 
whom  dirt  is  abhorrent.  Cleaning  and  airing  and  scrubbing 
and  shining  brasswork  never  ceased  on  board  the  Moltke. 
And  when  he  was  not  busy  overseeing  these  details,  he  was 
either  in  the  galley  or  wandering  about  with  a  pot  of  paint. 
Even  when  he  took  his  rest  in  a  hammock,  he  played  with  a 
pet  monkey  tied  to  the  rail  and  ruminated  on  the  next  day's 
menu.  He  practically  did  all  the  cooking  himself,  and  was 
never  so  happy  as  when  beating  a  mayonnaise  or  sniffing  at 
the  oven  door. 

Except  at  meal  times,  when  he  exerted  himself  to  talk, 
he  appeared  a  stolid,  uncommunicative  man,  keeping  starkly 
to  himself  and  repelling  any  advances.  Kirk  gathered  that 
he  had  left  the  Dutch  navy  under  a  cloud,  and  had  found 
a  congenial  exile  in  South  America.  Vera  surmised  that  he 
had  been  probably  making  nudelins  in  the  galley  at  some  crisis 
requiring  his  presence  on  the  bridge,  or  frying  batter  cakes 
when  he  should  have  been  at  his  guns.  There  was  no  doubt 
as  to  which  was  the  more  congenial  occupation  to  this  naval 
hero,  and  it  took  no  deep  student  of  human  nature  to  under- 
stand the  reason  of  his  failure.  Kirk  went  below  one  day 
and  discovered  they  were  carrying  a  dangerous  head  of  steam. 
The  boilers  were  leaking  ominously,  and  it  was  evident  by 
the  gauge  that  the  safety  valve  was  either  faulty  or  over- 
loaded. He  reported  the  fact  to  Captain  de  Ruyter,  who 
was  sitting  in  the  galley  doorway  stuffing  a  chicken. 

143 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  So?  "  said  the  captain,  with  an  air  of  bovine  irritation 
at  being  disturbed.  "  So?  " 

"  You  had  better  come  and  look  at  it  for  yourself,"  said 
Kirk.  "  We'll  be  in  the  air  in  five  minutes." 

"  Dat  boiler  was  always  troublesome,"  returned  the 
Dutchman  imperturbably,  with  his  fist  full  of  bread  crumbs. 
"  You  go  down  and  tell  dat  nigger  to  reduce  pressure  or 
I  myself  will  descend  and  kig  him." 

Kirk  modified  the  message  and  exerted  a  little  authority 
on  his  own  account,  tempered  by  a  couple  of  silver  dollars. 
After  that  he  visited  the  engine  deck  at  intervals,  and  bribed 
the  peons  to  keep  the  pressure  needle  within  limits.  Nobody 
resented  his  interference,  least  of  all  the  captain,  who  never 
alluded  to  the  matter  again.  The  engine,  like  the  ship,  could 
take  care  of  herself,  and  might  blow  itself  into  a  million 
fragments  for  all  the  Dutchman  seemed  to  care.  His  only 
interest  in  it  was  from  the  paint-pot  side,  and  so  long  as  it 
shone  like  a  new  pin  he  was  placidly  content.  He  was  a 
strange  creature,  and  at  times  Kirk  thought  him  a  little  mad. 
But  he  was  certainly  a  magnificent  cook,  and  in  this  sphere 
of  activity  had  no  equal.  Like  many  another  man  he  had 
simply  chosen  the  wrong  profession,  arriving  at  last  by 
devious  roads  (and  a  court  martial)  at  the  place  where  he 
rightfully  belonged. 

During  all  those  days  on  the  Orinoco  they  had  seen  but 
little  of  animal  life.  'But  here,  on  the  Inirida,  they  penetrated 
a  more  teeming  region.  The  river  swarmed  with  alligators, 
not  lined  up  decorously  like  logs  on  the  flats,  but  positively 
tadpoly  with  uncounted  thousands.  They  were  fierce,  too, 
snapping  at  the  garbage  that  was  thrown  overboard,  and 
flashing  their  ferocious  teeth  as  they  rushed  and  fought  in 
the  shallow  water.  It  was  an  unnerving  sight,  nightmarish, 
flesh-creeping.  Worse  still  were  the  boas  that  attacked  the 

144 


THE   ADVENTURER 

live  chickens  de  Ruyter  kept  in  coops  on  the  main  deck. 
These  huge  serpents  several  times  invaded  the  ship  in  the 
small  hours,  and  the  ensuing  squawking,  uproar,  and  club- 
bing was  something  terrific.  The  captain's  only  concern  was 
the  safety  of  his  larder,  but  Kirk  and  Vera  failed  to  share 
his  matter-of-fact  view  of  the  situation.  The  thought  of 
twenty-foot  snakes  crawling  over  the  ship  at  night  made 
their  blood  run  cold.  It  was  all  very  well  to  be  told  that 
boas  were  not  poisonous  and  extraordinary  cowardly.  A 
bruite  over  six  yards  long  and  as  thick  as  a  man's  leg,  dis- 
turbed the  imagination.  What  if  he  broke  in  the  cabin 
door,  or  insinuated  himself  through  the  screens?  De  Ruy- 
ter derided  the  suggestion,  and  built  a  nightly  fort  about 
his  broilers.  He  turned  in  with  the  grains  beside  him, 
and  would  fly  below  at  the  first  flutter  of  his  pets.  He 
confided  to  Kirk  that  "  dem  snages  are  a  great  big  nui- 
sance and  no  mistake,"  and  indulged  in  some  hair-raising 
reminiscences. 

There  were  insects  also  to  contend  with:  tiny  ants  with 
stings  like  drops  of  melted  lead;  jiggers  that  burrowed 
under  the  skin,  and  would  only  back  out  if  ammonia  were 
applied  to  the  spot;  flies  of  myriad  forms,  but  each  with 
some  special  power  to  tease  or  hurt;  centipedes,  hairy 
worms,  villainous  red-legged  tarantulas.  There  was  prob- 
ably no  place  in  the  world  so  rich  in  multitudinous  forms 
of  life.  But  if  the  disagreeable  side  of  this  wonderland 
has  been  dwelt  upon,  it  must  be  remembered  that  there  was 
another:  parrots  of  every  hue  of  the  rainbow;  humming 
birds,  as  iridescent  as  jewels;  gorgeous  butterflies;  troops 
of  monkeys,  swinging  and  swaying  in  the  treetops;  birds  of 
beautiful  and  fantastic  plumage,  delighting  the  eye  with  a 
kaleidoscope  of  color;  ghostly  turtles,  scurrying  in  hundreds 
over  the  sand  at  night;  fireflies  in  astounding  profusion, 

145 


THE   ADVENTURER 

glimmering  mysteriously  in  the  glades  of  the  forest,  and  out- 
lining fallen  trunks  or  huge  decaying  roots. 

At  dawn  all  nature  seemed  to  awake  and  clamor.  The 
forests,  previously  still,  vibrated  with  the  tumultuous  up- 
roar that  thrilled  the  ear  with  innumerable  tiny  voices  swell- 
ing into  a  diapason  that  was  at  once  menacing  and  trium- 
phant. The  battle  of  the  day  was  about  to  be  resumed, 
the  truce  was  over,  and  from  every  nook  and  cranny  of  those 
untrodden  wastes  there  rose  a  clarion  of  defiance. 

Kirk  loved  the  dark,  tranquil  hour  that  ushered  in  the 
day.  With  an  overcoat  wrapped  about  him  he  would  watch 
the  shadows  slowly  melt  and  vanish,  and  wait  expectantly 
for  the  first  faint  coming  of  the  dawn.  It  never  failed  to 
affect  him  with  a  peculiar  delight,  and  he  regretted  the  time 
when  flat  and  grassy  savannas  gradually  usurped  the  place 
of  forest.  After  three  days'  steaming  they  had  reached  a 
country  of  llanos  that  extended  on  either  side  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach,  vast  billowing  plains,  parching  in  the  sun, 
and  as  illimitable  as  the  sea  itself.  The  air  became  less 
stifling,  less  dank.  From  twelve  to  three  it  was  as  fiercely 
hot  as  ever,  but  infinitely  more  endurable.  The  wide  view 
brought  with  it  a  sense  of  freedom,  enhanced  by  the  trade 
wind.  Every  morning  it  sprang  up,  to  die  down  later  on  in 
the  noonday  heat,  reviving  again  toward  four  to  blow  briskly 
until  dusk.  The  sky,  no  longer  a  ceiling  between  two  walls 
of  forest,  became  a  dominant  feature  in  the  landscape,  with 
piled-up  mountains  of  cloud  rimming  the  horizon  with  fairy 
fastnesses. 

Kirk  would  have  been  content  to  go  on  forever.  What 
better  had  the  world  to  offer  him  ?  To  be  near  the  woman 
he  loved,  to  feel  day  by  day  her  increasing  dependence  on 
him,  to  share  those  serene  and  delightful  hours  with  her 
alone — what  change  could  be  for  anything  but  the  worse? 


THE  ADVENTURER 

He  had  no  money,  no  position,  no  profession,  no  future; 
and  the  pathetic  realization  that  the  real  prizes  of  life  could 
never  be  his,  caused  him  to  cling  all  the  more  passionately 
to  these  fleeting  moments.  He  was  a  man  of  thirty-two, 
hard-headed,  and  accustomed  to  look  facts  squarely  in  the 
face.  He  was  no  boy,  entertaining  childish  dreams  and 
presumptuously  self-confident.  In  his  more  sober  moods  he 
foresaw  he  was  laying  up  untold  pain  for  himself.  He  would 
pay  dearly  for  having  raised  his  eyes  to  such  unattainable 
height.  Such  a  woman  was  not  for  him.  She  belonged  to 
another  world — a  world  that  barred  him  at  the  threshold. 
What  was  he  but  one  of  the  lost  legion — one  of  those  who 
salted  the  frontiers  with  their  bones,  on  whose  unmarked 
graves  there  would  stand  in  after  years  the  houses  of  those 
for  whom  they  had  pioneered. 

He  had  his  times  of  despair  when,  from  the  bottom  of 
his  heart,  he  regretted  the  fate  that  had  brought  Vera  West- 
brook  and  himself  together,  times  when  he  kept  aloof,  in 
an  exasperation  of  bitterness,  determined  to  crush  down  the 
love  that  was  devouring  him.  Love!  What  an  ass  he  was, 
what  a  fool,  what  a  dolt!  He  must  free  himself.  He  must 
draw  back  while  he  was  yet  able.  He  must  hold  fast  to 
common  sense,  and  put  such  folly  by  him.  A  man  who  had 
nothing  to  give  had  no  right  to  ask.  He  was  cutting,  in- 
deed, a  most  humiliating  figure.  Marriage!  He  laughed 
at  himself  sardonically.  Had  he  said  good-bye  to  reason! 
Why  should  he  poison  an  exquisite  friendship  by  these  ab- 
surdities, and  torment  himself  for  nothing?  Crying  for  the 
moon,  that  was  what  it  was,  when  anybody  but  an  idiot 
would  have  been  grateful  and  satisfied.  He  took  himself 
hotly  to  task,  and  determined  to  be  wiser  in  the  future.  A 
man's  will  could  control  anything — even  a  sore  and  rebel- 
lious heart. 


THE   ADVENTURER 

But  when  he  tried  to  put  these  resolves  into  practice  he 
was  met  by  unforeseen  difficulties.  His  abruptness,  his  fits 
of  silence,  his  spiritless  and  dejected  air — all  were  provoca- 
tive of  the  danger  he  wished  so  ardently  to  avoid.  Vera 
suspected  what  was  passing  in  his  head,  and  her  manner 
toward  him  grew  softer  and  more  caressing.  Instead  of 
taking  offense  or  affecting  a  similar  coldness,  she  set  herself 
to  win  him  back  by  those  tender  artifices  that  are  instinctive 
in  every  woman.  Like  all  her  sex  she  loved  to  be  loved.  She 
liked  Kirk  well  enough  to  wish  to  have  him  at  her  feet. 
Though  her  pride  would  have  taken  fire  had  he  presumed 
to  court  her  or  openly  arrogate  the  attitude  of  a  lover,  she 
was  willing,  in  a  thousand  subtle  ways,  to  court  him.  It 
tempted  the  cruelty  in  her,  thrilling  her  with  a  strange  zest. 
She  did  not  grudge  hurting  herself  a  little  in  order  to  drive 
home  her  victory.  Kirk  was  too  sincere  a  man  to  turn  these 
weapons  against  herself — to  try  and  enmesh  her  in  her  own 
net.  He  perceived  dimly  that  she  was  coquetting  with  him, 
and  he  shrank  from  the  duel  in  which  he  had  everything 
to  lose.  He  knew  well  enough  that  if  he  ever  reached  an 
avowal  their  comradeship  would  be  at  an  end.  His  silence 
was  the  price  of  that  intoxicating  intimacy  which  at  the 
first  word  would  vanish  like  a  bubble.  So  he  remained 
silent,  marveling  at  the  contradictory  nature  that  was  so 
eager  to  lure  him  on  to  his  own  destruction. 

Oh,  man  and  maid,  can  you  never  live  in  peace!  Must 
you  always  tease  and  torment  each  other,  and  work  forever 
at  cross  purposes?  Is  it  not  possible  for  man  to  be  fire  and 
woman  tow,  and  yet  leave  out  the  devil,  or  Cupid,  or  what- 
ever name  we  may  apply  to  that  third  person  in  the  trans- 
action? Can  you  not  accept  each  a  piece  of  pie,  like  good 
children,  instead  of  fighting  for  the  plate? 

Alas,  no. 

148 


THE   ADVENTURER 

So  it  was  in  the  beginning,  is  now,  and  ever  shall  be. 

It  was  well  for  Kirk's  resolution  that  the  Moltke's  voy- 
age approached  an  end.  Perhaps  it  was  as  well  for  Vera 
Westbrook.  In  two  weeks  they  had  managed  to  get  along 
without  a  quarrel,  though  Kirk  was  heart  and  soul  in  love, 
and  she  in  the  first  disquietude  of  that  insidious  affliction. 
No  quarrel — and  no  making  up — love's  armory  not  half 
drawn  upon. 

The  announcement  came  at  dinner,  as  Kirk  inquired  of 
de  Ruyter  why  the  ship  was  still  under  way. 

"  Aren't  we  going  to  tie  up  to-night?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,"  said  the  Dutchman,  noisily  swallowing  soup. 
"  Slow  down,  dat's  all,  and  bring  up  to  Felicidad  by  mid- 
night. You  had  better  get  ready  to  land,  Kirgpatrick !  " 

This  was  the  first  time  their  destination  had  been  alluded 
to  or  named.  Felicidad !  Kirk  liked  the  sound  of  it,  and 
his  wondering  eyes  sought  Vera's  in  the  hope  of  an  explana- 
tion. But  she  avoided  his  look,  and  he  forebore  to  press  the 
unspoken  question.  It  would  soon  be  answered,  anyhow. 
The  captain  hurriedly  began  to  talk  about  Sumatra,  and 
the  delicious  oysters  to  be  found  there  in  the  mangrove 
swamps. 

"  No  oysters  like  them,"  he  declared.  "  Meld  in  your 
mouth.  Meld  in  your  mouth !  "  And  with  this  as  a  begin- 
ning he  rambled  over  the  globe  on  a  sort  of  oyster  cruise, 
with  a  wealth  of  oyster  information  that  was  staggering. 
Kirk  listened  to  it  all  as  he  might  to  the  droning  of  a  bee, 
his  thoughts  intent  on  Felicidad.  What  was  this  place? 
Who  were  those  unknown  employers  of  his  that  at  last  he 
was  to  meet  face  to  face?  What  did  they  want  of  him? 
What  could  be  the  nature  of  an  enterprise  which  was  to 
take  its  start  from  this  remote  point  in  the  heart  of  the 
continent?  His  curiosity,  so  long  dormant,  now  took  fire 

149 


THE  ADVENTURER 

afresh.  He  was  in  a  fever  of  anticipation.  He  saw  visions 
of  danger,  of  hardship,  of  extraordinary  opportunities  to  be 
taken  advantage  of.  He  had  courage  for  them  all,  the 
health  and  vigor  and  unshaken  determination.  These  ele- 
mental qualities,  so  little  thought  of  in  civilization,  are  su- 
preme in  the  wild  places.  It  is  then  that  a  man  stands  out 
for  what  he  is,  judged  only  by  the  primitive  standard.  The 
thought  stirred  Kirk  stupendously.  Nothing  was  impossible 
— not  even — !  He  would  win  her.  He  would  win  the 
hundred  thousand  pounds.  He  would  conquer  every  ob- 
stacle! And  if  he  failed,  welcome  then  to  oblivion  and  to 
the  long  sleep  that  has  no  awakening.  All  or  nothing — a 
sublime  resolve — old  as  man  himself,  and  springing  eternally 
from  the  same  inspiration. 

A  sad  evening  succeeded  dinner.  Vera  was  preoccupied 
and  said  little.  They  had  been  so  happy  together,  so  happy 
— and  now  it  was  all  over.  They  indulged  in  some  mirthful 
recollections.  They  followed  their  acquaintance  from  the 
Bolivar  to  the  Bismarck,  and  from  the  Bismarck  to  the 
Moltke,  laughing  as  they  brought  back  every  little  incident 
of  their  varied  journey.  But  it  was  the  laughter  of  senti- 
ment, in  which  there  was  a  note  of  tears,  with  long  pauses 
between  when  each  remained  silent.  Separation  impended, 
strangers,  a  new  order  of  things.  Those  long,  bright  days 
together,  those  enchanting  evenings  under  the  stars  were  fast 
fading  into  the  past,  memories,  irrevocable,  precious,  not  to 
be  recalled  without  a  pang.  Kirk  expressed  the  hope  that 
the  steamer  would  strike  a  bank,  and  thus  delay  the  catas- 
trophe of  parting.  Vera  let  the  observation  pass  with  a 
smile,  and  a  denying  movement  of  her  graceful  head,  as 
though  fate  could  not  thus  be  trifled  with. 

Kirk  felt  for  her  hand  in  the  dark  and  pressed  it.  She 
gently  drew  it  away. 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"No,  no,  you  must  not!"  she  exclaimed,  impetuously 
arresting  the  words  which  rose  to  his  lips.  "  Let  it  end  as 
it  began — an  idyll — untarnished,  unvulgarized,  ethereal  as 
a  dream.  This  is  what  made  me  like  you — you  have  been  so 
chivalrous,  so  good,  so  generous  and  forbearing.  Don't  dis- 
appoint me  now  when  it  is  all  over !  " 

"  It  has  grown  very  hard,"  he  said  moodily.  "  I  wouldn't 
be  a  man  if  I  had  not  loved  you.  God  knows,  I  resisted  all  I 
could.  I've  never  cared  for  the  role  of  the  hopeless  suppliant. 
I've  tried  all  along  to  keep  myself  from  slipping  into  that 
sort  of  relation  toward  you — not  for  your  sake,  not  because  I 
was  generous,  or  anything  of  that  kind — but  because  I'm  a 
proud  man  who  hates  to  humiliate  himself." 

Her  face,  beautiful  and  unrelenting  in  the  starlight,  filled 
him  with  a  sudden  bitterness.  He  leaned  over  the  rail,  gaz- 
ing in  dejection  at  the  water  below.  She  came  over  and 
nestled  close  beside  him. 

"  Poor  little  Babes  in  the  Wood,"  she  exclaimed.  "  They 
tried  so  hard  to  keep  the  serpent  out  of  their  paradise,  but 
the  horrid  thing  would  get  in !  " 

Her  tone  was  so  contrite,  so  piquant,  and  tender  that 
Kirk  was  disarmed.  He  had  to  smile  in  spite  of  himself. 

"  You  are  a  dear,  dear  fellow,"  she  went  on.  "  Perhaps 
I  had  to  resist  a  little  bit  myself.  It  hurt  me  when  you  said 
it  humiliated  you — to  care  for  me.  It  isn't  humiliating  at 
all — it  ought  to  be  a  liberal  education." 

They  both  laughed.  Her  charm  was  irresistible.  Kirk 
was  filled  with  a  wild  and  unreasoning  elation.  It  delighted 
him  to  wring  that  admission  from  her,  however  whimsically 
and  mockingly  she  had  put  it. 

"  Now  I  must  pack  up  and  get  a  little  nap,"  she  added, 
and  before  he  could  protest  she  had  fled  and  disappeared  down 
the  companion. 


THE   ADVENTURER 

Kirk  remained  on  deck,  smoking  cigar  after  cigar  in  the 
darkness.  He  was  in  a  whirl  of  conflicting  emotions,  under- 
going all  the  alternations  of  happiness  and  misery.  He  knew 
not  what  to  think — what  to  hope.  But  he  was  a  dear,  dear 
fellow.  Those  words  repeated  themselves  exultantly,  in  soft 
and  limpid  accents,  consoling  him  in  his  more  somber  mo- 
ments of  reflection.  But  he  could  not  rid  himself  of  the 
impression  that  she  had  taken  farewell  of  him.  That  her 
tenderness  had  been  inspired  by  the  impending  change  in  their 
relations.  He  seemed  to  feel  that  he  had  been  dismissed, 
sweetly,  graciously,  reluctantly — but  still  dismissed.  It 
checked  the  presumption  that  her  words  had  caused  him. 
It  was  but  natural,  at  the  end  of  their  singular  intimacy, 
that  she  should  let  him  down  easily.  He  had  been  good. 
He  had  been  chivalrous.  He  had  acted,  at  any  rate,  like  a 
gentleman,  and  she  had  thus  repaid  him  in  the  only  manner 
possible — a  disquieting  thought,  indeed,  obtrusive  and  not 
easily  to  be  denied.  Well,  time  would  show — time  would 
tell  him — though  the  suspense  in  the  meanwhile  was  hard  to 
bear.  Yet — yet ! 

He  dozed  off  and  awoke  again.  The  steamer  was  still 
moving.  A  glance  at  his  watch  showed  it  to  be  nearly  one 
o'clock.  Where  was  Felicidad?  De  Ruyter,  always  an  in- 
competent, had  probably  miscalculated  his  position.  The 
dim,  flat  landscape  on  either  hand  betrayed  no  sign  of  habi- 
tation. The  splashing  wheel  turned  monotonously,  tirelessly, 
as  though  it  had  all  the  rest  of  the  night  before  it.  Kirk 
looked  ahead  for  distant  lights,  but  there  were  no  lights — 
none,  at  least,  save  the  sinking  stars.  It  was  cold,  and  he 
walked  briskly  up  and  down  to  warm  himself,  wondering 
whether  to  go  below  or  to  stick  it  out  a  little  longer.  He 
finally  decided  on  his  bunk,  and  descended  to  the  lower  depth. 
He  was  groping  for  the  door  handle  when  the  ship  suddenly 

152 


THE   ADVENTURER 

stopped.  There  was  a  jangle  of  bells  in  the  engine  room, 
sleepy,  querulous  orders,  the  tramp  of  feet,  a  shivering  impact 
as  the  vessel  ground  her  side  against  a  creaking  wall  of  piles. 
Kirk  ran  forward,  and  almost  fell  into  de  Ruyter's  arms. 

"  Felicidad !  "  said  the  latter  grumpily. 

All  that  Kirk  could  see  was  a  small  wharf  to  which  they 
were  being  made  fast.  Whatever  else  Felicidad  consisted 
of  was  hidden  in  the  darkness.  There  was  no  one  to  meet 
them — no  sign  of  life  or  animation.  All  was  ghostly,  black, 
and  silent.  Kirk  got  his  bag  and  stepped  ashore,  joining 
the  captain  and  Miss  Westbrook,  who  were  awaiting  him. 
De  Ruyter  held  a  lantern  which  he  raised  as  Kirk  approached, 
yawning  as  he  did  so. 

"  Gome,"  he  said,  and  with  that  he  led  the  way,  Vera  and 
Kirk  walking  obediently  behind  him.  They  took  hands  like 
children,  laughing  as  they  stumbled  along,  and  making  fun 
of  the  whole  adventure.  Kirk  said  that  what  pleased  him 
most  about  Felicidad  were  the  public  buildings,  though  he 
confessed  to  be  disappointed  in  the  new  opera  house.  Vera 
said  she  liked  the  air  of  spaciousness — the  noble  plan  on 
which  it  had  been  laid  out.  Room,  that  was  the  great  thing 
in  a  modern  city.  Room!  there  certainly  seemed  to  be  an 
unlimited  amount  of  it.  Room — if  nothing  else.  To  all 
appearance  the  captain  was  leading  them  across  a  trackless 
prairie,  though  in  the  blinding  light  of  his  lantern  it  was 
impossible  to  discern  what  might  be  before  them. 

"  Who  goes  there?  "  rang  out  a  voice,  close  and  startling. 

"  Friend !  "  cried  de  Ruyter. 

An  indistinct  figure  was  seen,  rifle  in  hand. 

"  Is  that  you,  Nash,"  inquired  the  captain. 

"  Bet  your  boots,"  replied  the  sentry,  in  a  nasal  and  fa- 
miliar vernacular,  grounding  his  weapon  and  cheerfully 
shaking  hands.  Kirk  and  Vera  drew  a  little  apart,  as  there 

153 


THE   ADVENTURER 

ensued  a  whispered  colloquy  between  de  Ruyter  and  the 
stranger. 

"  I'll  go  up  to  headquarters  and  report,  while  you  take 
Kirkpatrick  and  find  him  a  shakedown  somewhere." 

"  Sure,"  said  Mr.  Nash. 

The  party  divided,  Kirk  following  his  new  friend,  while 
de  Ruyter  and  the  girl  started  off  in  another  direction.  The 
night  was  as  black  as  pitch,  but  Nash  strode  on  as  though  he 
could  have  found  his  way  blindfolded.  Kirk  perceived  a 
glimmer  of  whiteness  looming  large  and  vague  against  a 
denser  shadow.  Nash  stopped  and  lit  a  match,  revealing  a 
large  tent.  Its  front  stood  open,  showing  within  a  double 
line  of  cots,  in  which  twenty  men  or  more  were  lying  asleep. 
They  tiptoed  in  softly,  guided  by  one  match  after  another, 
searching  for  an  unoccupied  bed.  They  found  a  couple  in 
the  corner,  and  Nash  whispered  to  Kirk  to  take  his  choice. 

"  Happy  dreams !  "  he  said,  and  forthwith  departed. 

Kirk  took  off  his  shoes,  and  lying  down  as  he  was,  drew 
the  coverlet  over  him. 

So  this  was  Felicidad! 


154 


CHAPTER   XIII 

IRED  though  he  was,  he  was  too  restless  and 
excited  to  sleep.  The  heavy  breathing  all 
about  him,  the  occasional  snores,  the  gur- 
gling and  gasping  of  the  man  next  him — 
all  irritated  his  nerves  and  helped  to  keep 
him  wide  awake.  The  cot  was  narrow  and  sagged  in  the 
center.  It  was  too  hot  above,  too  cold  below,  and  he  turned 
and  twisted  in  unavailing  efforts  to  make  himself  comfort- 
able. Probably  he  would  have  fared  no  better  in  a  feather 
bed,  for  his  thoughts  were  too  busy  to  allow  him  to  shut  his 
eyes  and  drift  away  into  oblivion.  At  last  these  questions 
were  to  be  answered  that  had  so  long  distracted  him.  The 
veil  was  about  to  be  lifted.  He  stood  on  the  actual  threshold 
of  the  mystery,  which,  with  the  rising  sun,  would  be  a  mys- 
tery no  longer.  No  wonder  that  he  longed  for  daylight 
and  could  not  coerce  himself  into  even  a  momentary  forget- 
fulness.  He  was  tantalized  beyond  measure  to  have  to  lie 
there  and  wait  for  the  leaden  hours  to  pass.  Several  times 
he  rose  and  crept  out  of  the  tent,  eager  for  the  first  peep  of 
dawn.  He  was  fearful  that  it  might  come  unawares  and  rob 
him  of  a  single  moment. 

At  the  first  indication  of  lessening  darkness  he  put  on 
his  shoes  and  sallied  forth.  His  watch,  visible  for  the  first 
time,  showed  him  half  past  four.  From  the  ground  a  mist 
was  rising,  unwholesome  and  malarious,  earthy  in  its  smell, 
and  sodden  with  fever.  It  disappeared  somewhat  in  the  twi- 
light of  encroaching  day,  but  not  enough  to  give  him  an 
11  155 


THE   ADVENTURER 

unimpeded  view  of  the  settlement.  Tents  and  mist,  tents  and 
mist — that  was  all  he  could  make  out.  Felicidad  was  a 
camp,  military  in  its  precision  and  regularity — a  compact, 
hollow  square  of  canvas,  with  an  imposing  center  tent  that 
could  easily  have  housed  a  small  circus.  Kirk  made  the 
round  of  the  settlement,  peering  inquisitively  into  the  various 
tents.  Some  held  nothing  but  merchandise  in  cases — salmon, 
lard,  fruit,  etc.  Others  sheltered  machinery,  crated  roughly, 
wound  round  with  gunny  sacking,  and  apparently  not  yet 
assembled.  It  was  impossible  to  determine  what  it  was  in- 
tended for.  Kirk  begrudged  the  time  for  a  protracted  inspec- 
tion, and  hurriedly  passed  on. 

He  seemed  to  be  the  only  person  in  Felicidad  who  was 
awake  at  that  hour,  and  he  was  overcome  with  a  sort  of  awe 
as  he  looked  in  at  cots  and  sleeping  figures.  These  dim  inte- 
riors had  the  bareness  of  soldiers'  quarters.  They  were  rough 
and  comfortless,  with  clothes  hanging,  laundry  fashion,  from 
lines  stretched  from  eave  to  eave.  A  kerosene  case  for  a 
chair,  a  lantern,  a  tin  wash  basin — such  was  the  prevailing 
furniture.  Some  of  the  tents  were  tied  fast  from  within, 
forbidding  entry.  Others  stood  broadly  open,  concealing 
nothing — kitchen  messrooms  with  board  tables  and  long 
benches,  a  sort  of  office  with  a  typewriter  and  a  pigeon-holed 
desk  and  more  storerooms.  There  was  a  carpenter  shop, 
knee  deep  in  shavings;  a  smithy,  with  forge,  bellows,  drills, 
lathe,  and  open  chests  containing  mechanics'  tools ;  a  hospital, 
smelling  of  disinfectants. 

Kirk  next  turned  his  attention  to  the  central  marquee, 
but  stopped  short,  and  then  drew  back  as  he  heard  the  meas- 
ured tread  of  the  sentry.  He  had  a  vision  of  a  man  passing 
and  repassing  with  a  rifle  on  his  shoulder.  Tramp,  tramp, 
tramp,  and  turn.  Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  and  turn.  Kirk 
retreated.  He  felt  like  an  interloper,  a  spy,  and  shrank 

156 


THE   ADVENTURER 

from  being  challenged.  He  had  a  misgiving  that  he  would 
be  ordered  back  to  his  tent.  He  had  to  see  more  before  that 
happened.  It  was  still  dark  and  misty,  though  the  eastern 
clouds  were  reddening.  There  yet  remained  a  few  minutes 
more  of  freedom,  a  few  minutes  more  in  which  to  satisfy  his 
consuming  curiosity. 

He  made  his  way  to  the  end  of  the  white  square,  at- 
tracted by  a  sort  of  pole  that  showed  fitfully  beyond — a  pole 
or  flagstaff  of  immense  height,  elusively  wrapped  in  mist. 
He  walked  fast,  passing  the  last  line  of  tents,  and  following 
a  wide  and  well-defined  track.  He  was  excited.  There 
now  seemed  to  be  two  poles,  together  with  mysterious  cord- 
age and  yards  high  in  the  air — something  shiplike  and 
extraordinary  that  surpassed  his  wildest  conjectures.  He 
redoubled  his  pace.  He  began  to  run.  But  the  mounting 
sun  was  faster  than  he.  As  it  flashed  over  the  horizon  the 
mist  rolled  up  like  the  curtain  of  a  theater,  vanishing  with  a 
startling  suddenness  in  the  first  rosy  beams  of  morning. 

The  sight  that  met  his  eyes  filled  him  with  an  inexpress- 
ible astonishment.  Before  him  was  a  vessel,  a  topsail 
schooner  with  the  loftiest  masts  he  had  ever  seen,  resting, 
not  on  water,  but  on  eight  gigantic  wheels. 

It  was  a  stupefying  apparition.  Kirk  stood  still,  unable 
at  first  to  do  anything  but  gasp.  Yes,  on  wheels  twenty  feet 
high,  with  tires  eighteen  inches  wide — powerful  and  mas- 
sive as  though  for  the  carriage  of  some  giant  cannon.  But 
instead  of  a  Brobdignagian  cannon  was  a  fabric  of  colossal 
proportions,  surmounted  by  two  powerful  masts.  A  vessel 
of  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  long,  rigged,  not  for  the  ocean, 
but  to  skim  the  land.  An  astonishing  conception,  carried 
out  with  boldness  and  intrepidity.  No  oversparred  racing 
machine  ever  carried  half  the  spread  of  canvas  of  this  mon- 
ster. Her  main  boom  passed  sixty  feet  beyond  the  taffrail, 

157 


THE   ADVENTURER 

and  the  sail  itself  was  double  the  ordinary  height.  Her  fore- 
topsail  yards  were  inordinately  long.  The  slender  topmasts 
seemed  to  pierce  the  sky.  She  would  not  have  lived  an 
hour  at  sea,  and  as  Kirk  gazed  up  he  wondered  whether  she 
would  fare  any  better  on  land.  This  new  seamanship  was 
likely  to  be  twice  as  exacting  as  the  old.  The  man  who  sailed 
this  towering  mass  would  have  his  work  cut  out  for  him. 
To  keep  her  on  an  even  keel  would  tax  him  to  the  utmost, 
and  he  would  find  himself  confronted  by  problems  that  none 
but  he  had  ever  faced  before. 

Kirk  hurried  on,  the  strange  vessel  looming  up  before  him 
and  growing  vaster  and  higher  with  every  step  he  took 
toward  it.  A  wooden  stairway  gave  temporary  access  to  the 
lower  deck,  which  was  about  ten  feet  above  the  ground. 
Kirk  mounted  it  and  found  himself  in  a  spidery  cage  of 
aluminum,  a  skeleton,  so  to  speak,  which  had  yet  to  be 
filled  in.  The  framework  had  been  finished  to  the  last  rivet, 
but  the  secondary  stage  had  been  hardly  more  than  begun. 
Evidences  of  work  were  visible  on  every  hand — planks,  tools, 
great  rolls  of  sheet  aluminum,  partitions  of  the  same  mate- 
rial in  the  first  process  of  erection,  cabins  and  passageways 
hardly  more  than  outlined  in  a  slender  framework  of  the 
all-pervading  dirty-white  metal,  with  gaping  interstices 
through  which  the  sun  was  broadly  shining. 

On  the  upper  deck  things  were  less  advanced,  hardly  a 
third  of  it  being  covered  over.  Kirk  had  to  pick  his  way  with 
care  along  the  lanes  of  planks  lest  a  false  step  should  precipi- 
tate him  below.  Everything  was  in  confusion.  Machinery 
was  stacked  under  tarpaulins.  A  temporary  forge  stood  be- 
neath the  bridge.  An  eight-cylinder  gasoline  winch  was  in 
the  course  of  installation  abaft  the  foremast,  and  a  number  of 
its  parts  lay  scattered  about  on  sheets  of  canvas.  A  hundred 
jobs  had  been  simultaneously  going  forward  and  overlapping 

158 


THE   ADVENTURER 

one  another.  Kirk  walked  through  a  litter  of  boxes  and 
barrels,  cordage,  tool  chest,  carpenters'  benches,  paint  pots 
— a  bewildering  tangle  of  a  thousand  discordant  objects 
thrown  pell-mell  together.  There  seemed  work  enough  to 
last  a  hundred  men  a  hundred  years.  The  land-ship,  so 
trim  and  stately  from  a  distance,  revealed  on  closer  inspec- 
tion a  chaotic  interior  which  was  most  depressing.  She  was 
hardly  more  than  an  aluminum  shell — a  delicate,  spidery 
framework — requiring  weeks  of  labor,  possibly  months,  to 
make  her  habitable  and  ready. 

Ready?  For  what?  To  sail  those  vast  and  billowy 
plains?  Incredulity,  keen  and  painful,  overcame  Kirk  as  he 
clambered  to  the  bridge  and  looked  down.  Had  he  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  madmen?  What  an  egregious  undertaking 
— what  an  absurdity!  And  it  was  for  this  then  he  had 
traveled  so  far,  and  allowed  himself  to  dream  such  dazzling 
dreams?  The  whole  idea  was  so  novel,  so  amazing,  so 
unheard  of,  that  his  first  sensation  was  one  of  frightful  dis- 
appointment. Then,  little  by  little,  he  began  to  reason  with 
himself.  What  right  had  he  to  declare  offhand  that  such  a 
thing  was  impossible?  He  remembered  that  everything  new 
had  seemed  impossible  to  somebody — to  the  most,  in  fact. 
The  first  steamer  was  an  impossibility.  The  Suez  Canal  was 
an  impossibility.  The  St.  Gothard  tunnel  had  been  derided 
by  the  best  engineers.  Yet  all  in  time  had  become  facts.  Pos- 
sibly this  thing  he  stood  on  was  destined  also  to  become  a 
fact. 

He  realized  that  he  had  no  data  to  go  on,  that  it  was  a 
problem  that  lay  outside  his  entire  experience.  It  was  a 
question  of  an  enormous  resistance  having  to  be  overcome  by 
a  proportionate-sail  plan — a  simple  equation  of  the  one 
against  the  other — only  to  be  actually  determined  by  experi- 
ment. But  the  weight  to  be  thus  moved  was  appalling. 

159 


THE   ADVENTURER 

Looking  down  he  was  dismayed  at  the  incalculable  tons  of 
aluminum  that  met  his  eyes.  It  was  inconceivable  to  ever 
think  of  it  moving.  He  was  daunted  afresh  by  the  huge- 
ness and  slightness  of  the  fabric,  by  those  crazy  wheels  that 
projected  outboard  so  many  feet,  by  those  insignificant  axles 
no  thicker  than  his  arm.  Could  they  possibly  bear  the  load  ? 
Could  they  bear  the  decks,  cabins,  water  tanks,  all  in  process 
of  construction?  Then  there  were  people  to  be  carried, 
food  for  the  people,  baggage  for  the  people,  weight  to  be 
added  to  weight  with  a  staggering  prodigality. 

Then  it  began  to  dawn  on  him  why  the  rigging  and 
sparring  had  been  completed  before  the  hull.  Evidently, 
as  a  precautionary  measure,  she  had  been  tried  under  sail 
just  as  soon  as  the  aluminum  skeleton  had  been  finished,  a 
trial  to  settle  and  test  all  doubts  and  put  the  practicability 
of  the  scheme  to  proof.  Why  else  should  they  have  gone  to 
the  trouble  of  setting  up  the  rigging  and  bending  sails — a 
task  which,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  would  have  been 
better  left  to  the  last.  This  was  a  reassuring  thought,  and 
was  made  even  more  reassuring  by  the  sight  of  the  wheel 
in  the  extreme  stern.  A  series  of  wheels  rather,  four  in  all, 
sufficiently  spaced  apart  to  allow  eight,  or  if  need  be,  sixteen 
men,  to  hold  the  fragile  monster  on  her  course. 

Kirk  made  up  his  mind  to  go  aloft  and  see  how  things 
looked  from  the  foretop.  The  shrouds  were  rattled  down, 
thus  making  it  an  easy  matter  to  lay  aloft.  It  was  not  until 
he  had  begun  to  climb  that  Kirk  fully  realized  the  height 
of  those  masts.  From  the  bridge  they  had  appeared  fore- 
shortened and  dwarfed,  but  now,  as  he  mounted  ratline  after 
ratline,  he  appreciated  that  he  had  done  them  an  injustice. 
He  had  seldom  seen  such  sticks  in  anything  afloat.  The 
foretop  loomed  above  him  as  high  as  a  ship's  royal.  In 
spite  of  his  eagerness  he  had  again  and  again  to  stop 

160 


THE   ADVENTURER 

and  take  breath.  Like  Jacob's  ladder  it  seemed  to  lead  to 
heaven. 

At  last  he  reached  the  top.  It  was  canvassed  in,  breast- 
high,  making  it  a  sort  of  crow's  nest.  It  was  broad  and  com- 
fortable, and  a  man  could  have  swung  a  hammock  in  it 
easily.  Against  the  mast  were  two  flexible  speaking-tubes 
that  probably  communicated  to  the  steersman  and  to  the 
bridge  respectively.  It  was  here  from  which  the  ship  was 
sailed,  then?  It  seemed  a  cumbrous  method  of  giving  or- 
ders, but  there  was  likely  no  better  way.  The  new  sailor- 
izing  had  exigencies  unknown  to  the  old.  The  sea,  in  a 
sense,  was  always  level,  and  one  was  not  required  to  pick 
out  a  course.  But  these  vast  plains,  for  all  their  appearance 
of  flatness,  were  broken  into  hummocks,  hollows,  and  out- 
croppings — not  an  acre  anywhere  that  could  be  absolutely 
trusted.  The  outlook  from  the  bridge  was  too  limited  for 
safety.  But  from  the  crow's  nest  a  view  could  be  obtained 
that  stopped  only  at  the  horizon.  For  miles  ahead  the  coun- 
try could  be  unfolded  like  a  map,  and  a  way  picked  out  with 
unerring  certainty. 

From  that  dizzy  eerie  in  the  sky  he  looked  down  on  the 
sea  of  dingy  yellow  that  stretched  away  from  him  on  every 
side — so  vast,  so  illimitable,  so  alluring  in  its  immensity  and 
desolation  that  he  was  held  spellbound  before  it. 

The  sun  had  risen,  flooding  the  eastern  rim  with  fire. 
The  ribbon  of  the  Inirida  gleamed  like  silver  as  it  wound 
and  twisted  from  horizon  to  horizon.  The  Moltke,  like  a 
smart  tin  toy,  lay  snugged  against  the  wharf,  seemingly  tied 
to  it  by  a  piece  of  thread.  The  camp,  also  diminutive  and 
suggestive  of  the  playbox,  presented  a  pretty  and  inviting 
aspect.  Corkscrews  of  smoke  were  rising  from  the  kitchens, 
portending  breakfast  and  a  general  awakening.  Kirk  was 
exhilarated  by  the  freshness  of  the  morning,  the  strange  bril- 

161 


THE   ADVENTURER 

liancy  and  charm  of  the  scene,  the  thought  of  wonder- 
ful things  to  come.  He  was  in  a  glow  of  content.  His 
forebodings  vanished.  The  ship  would  surely  sail,  and 
he  would  sail  with  her,  and  it  was  a  great  old  world 
after  all! 

The  camp  square  began  to  cluster  with  figures.  Tent 
after  tent  emptied  its  quota.  Little  groups  formed  and 
straggled  toward  the  ship.  They  were  all  dressed  in  over- 
alls, and  the  prevailing  note  of  dirty  khaki  gave  them  the 
appearance  of  prisoners  put  out  to  work.  Kirk  counted 
upward  of  seventy  men  advancing  toward  him.  He  de- 
scended the  ratlines,  curious  indeed  to  meet  his  new  com- 
panions, and  eager  to  fraternize  with  them.  By  the  time 
he  reached  the  ground  he  was  face  to  face  with  the  vanguard, 
who  greeted  him  good-naturedly. 

"  Hello,  Bill,"  said  one. 

"What's  your  name,  old  fellow?"  asked  another. 

"Ain't  he  a  toff!"  exclaimed  the  third.  "I  say,  boys, 
they've  sent  us  a  blooming  dook !  " 

Others  thronged  about  him.  Kirk  felt  like  a  new  boy 
at  school.  He  was  embarrassed  under  the  stare  of  so  many 
eyes.  He  was  relieved  by  a  little  man  bustling  up  who 
had  an  unmistakable  air  of  authority,  and  yet  withal  so 
kind  and  smiling  a  look  that  Kirk  was  instantly  drawn 
to  him.  He  was  about  thirty,  thin,  boyish,  and  alert,  with 
gold  spectacles  through  which  danced  a  pair  of  bright  brown 
eyes. 

"  How  do  you  do?  "  he  said,  putting  out  a  hand  as  small 
as  a  girl's.  "  I'm  Crawshaw — Lionel  Crawshaw — and  you 
are  the  new  chap  that  arrived  last  night?  Glad  to  see  you. 
Hope  we'll  be  friends.  Now  then,  fellows,  go  on !  "  His 
tone  was  almost  pleading,  but  Kirk  noticed  that  he  was 
obeyed  promptly.  He  was  an  Englishman  of  a  modern  and 

162 


THE   ADVENTURER 

little  known  type,  the  product  of  polytechnical  schools  and 
cheap  higher  education,  a  highly  trained,  highly  specialized 
man  who  had  never  seen  the  inside  of  a  college. 

"  You  must  go  back  and  report  to  Captain  Jackson,"  he 
said.  "  His  office  is  in  the  big  tent  there  in  the  center.  I'm 
in  charge  of  the  engineering  squad.  Is  it  in  your  line  at  all  ? 
Hope  it  is,  for  we  are  frightfully  short-handed.  Oh,  you've 
had  a  little  experience  with  steam  engines !  Well,  every  little 
bit  counts,  you  know — and  you  tell  him  I'll  be  glad  to  have 
you.  If  a  chap  has  any  aptitude  in  that  direction  I  can 
always  make  him  useful.  American,  eh?  That's  good. 
You'll  take  to  it  like  a  duck  to  water.  You  fellows  always 
do — you  and  the  colonials.  Kirkpatrick — is  that  it?  Lewis 
Kirkpatrick!  Well,  I  must  be  off.  Good-by.  Don't  let 
the  carpenters  nab  you !  " 

With  this  final  warning  he  turned  away  and  scurried  for 
the  stairs.  By  this  time  the  ship  was  reverberating  like  a 
factory.  Hammers  were  flying,  metal  clanging,  and  the 
decks  were  in  an  uproar  which  gradually  grew  deafening. 
Seventy  men  were  hard  at  work  with  a  swing  and  a  vigor 
that  knew  no  union  restrictions.  There  was  none  of  that 
dawdling,  systematized  into  a  science,  that  preoccupies  the 
main  energies  of  the  ordinary  laborer.  The  ship  was  as 
animated  as  an  ant-hill,  and  every  ant  was  busy.  It  was 
a  stirring  spectacle,  and  Kirk  lingered  for  a  while,  too  ab- 
sorbed by  it  to  turn  away. 

But  recalling  Crawshaw's  instructions  he  at  length 
walked  back  to  the  camp,  and  directed  himself  to  the  center 
tent.  The  front  had  been  rolled  up,  and  seated  at  a  soli- 
tary breakfast  within  was  a  tall,  thin,  baldish  man  in  white 
clothes.  There  was  something  very  stiff  and  formidable  in 
his  appearance.  Martinet  was  stamped  all  over  him,  and 
his  gray  mustache  and  side  whiskers  fairly  bristled  with 

163 


THE  ADVENTURER 

authority.  Even  his  manner  of  devouring  a  banana  was 
provocative  and  insulting,  and  he  drank  his  coffee  in  angry 
little  sips. 

"  Captain  Jackson?  "  inquired  Kirk. 

He  got  a  scowling  look  in  reply. 

"  Mr.  Crawshaw  told  me  to  report  to  you." 

"  Sir,"  added  the  captain,  with  a  click  of  his  teeth. 

It  was  a  moment  before  Kirk  realized  that  he  had  been 
corrected. 

"  To  report  to  you,  sir"  he  repeated. 

The  captain  looked  him  up  and  down,  and  then  thawed 
somewhat. 

"  Come  in,"  he  said. 

Kirk  obeyed. 

"Don't  slouch  like  that!  Haven't  you  a  back?  Stand 
up  straight  and  salute !  " 

Kirk  flushed,  but  he  determined  not  to  begin  his  first  day 
in  Felicidad  with  a  quarrel.  He  gulped  down  his  resentment 
and  saluted. 

"  Now,  my  man,"  said  the  captain,  "  I  want  you  to  get 
one  thing  in  your  head  before  we  go  any  further.  I  am  Cap- 
tain Horatio  H.  B.  Jackson,  late  of  the  United  States  Army 
Transport  Service,  and  I'm  in  command  of  this  expedition. 
However  little  you  may  like  it,  you  will  have  to  submit 
to  man-of-war  discipline.  Superior  officers  are  to  be  saluted 
whenever  addressed,  and  I  will  not  tolerate  slackness  or  dis- 
respect. There  is  only  one  way  to  run  any  organization  of 
men,  and  that  is  with  an  iron  hand !  " 

He  raised  it — the  iron  hand — and  twirled  his  mustache 
fiercely. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Kirk. 

"What's  your  name?" 

"  Lewis  Kirkpatrick,  sir." 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  You  are  the  man  that  arrived  last  night  in  the 
MoltM" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Had  any  sea  experience?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Box  the  compass." 

Kirk  boxed  it — successfully.  North,  north  by  east,  nor- 
nor-east,  etc. 

"Navigate?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Captain  Jackson  made  a  note  of  it  in  a  little  book.  Kirk's 
deferential  demeanor  had  plainly  made  a  good  impression. 

"  We're  busy  just  now  in  getting  the  ship  to  rights.  Fit- 
ting her  up  and  all  that.  There's  hardly  any  trade  that  we 
don't  need — and  need  badly.  We  want  to  use  every  man  to 
the  best  advantage.  How  can  you  best  help  us?  " 

"Mr.  Crawshaw  wished  to  have  me  in  the  engineering 
squad,  sir." 

"  Ah,  very  good.  Then  report  to  him  for  duty  after 
breakfast.  If  you  need  anything  from  the  paymaster's  de- 
partment, Mr.  Crawshaw  will  make  out  the  necessary  requi- 
sitions. You  will  mess  at  tent  number  four,  and  they  will 
see  that  you  get  a  cot.  You  can  go." 

Kirk  was  glad  to  be  dismissed.  The  captain's  arrogance 
irritated  him,  and  it  had  only  been  by  considerable  self- 
control  that  he  had  refrained  from  some  sharp  answers.  But 
he  was  an  old  campaigner,  and  he  knew  how  foolish  it  would 
be  to  start  with  the  ill-will  of  his  commanding  officer.  He 
would  do  what  he  was  told,  and  do  it  smiling,  however  much 
it  rubbed  him  the  wrong  way.  Without  being  all  things 
to  all  men,  he  would  try  to  earn  a  reputation  for  willing- 
ness and  good  nature,  and  put  a  guard  on  both  his  temper 
and  his  tongue.  These  last  are  responsible  for  most  of  the 

165 


THE   ADVENTURER 

world's  failures.  An  ambitious  man  regards  them  as  luxu- 
ries that  he  is  too  poor  to  afford.  There  was  promotion 
ahead  for  somebody,  and  Kirk  was  resolved  to  be  in  line  for  it. 

He  had  not  the  faintest  idea  of  where  to  find  mess  tent 
number  four.  Some  of  the  tents  were  numbered,  and  some 
were  not,  and  there  was  not  a  soul  in  sight  to  ask.  He 
sought  the  tent  where  he  had  slept,  found  it  empty,  and  tak- 
ing it  as  a  starting  point,  walked  along  the  canvas  street, 
looking  into  every  tent  as  he  passed.  He  had  not  gone  very 
far  when  he  discovered  one  that  was  occupied.  Seated  on  a 
wooden  box  was  a  fair,  broad-shouldered  young  man  in  a 
nightshirt,  engaged  in  patching  the  seat  of  a  pair  of  trousers. 
In  his  right  eye  was  a  single  eyeglass,  so  ludicrously  out  of 
keeping  with  his  single  scanty  garment  that  Kirk  could  not 
restrain  his  laughter. 

"Hello!  "he  said. 

"  Hello  yourself,"  said  the  young  man,  in  the  pleasant 
and  unmistakable  accents  of  a  gentleman.  There  was  some- 
thing so  frank,  manly,  and  engaging  in  his  address  that  Kirk 
warmed  to  him  at  once. 

"  I'm  looking  for  tent  number  four,"  he  exclaimed. 

"  This  is  the  very  spot,"  said  the  young  man.  "  Come 
in  and  I'll  get  you  a  cup  of  coffee." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  want  to  disturb  you,"  protested  Kirk. 

"  No  bother,"  said  the  young  man,  putting  down  the 
trousers.  "  The  doctor  has  laid  me  off  for  a  couple  of  days, 
but  I'm  glad  to  lend  a  hand  and  make  myself  useful,  you 
know."  He  retired  through  the  rear  of  the  tent,  and  Kirk 
heard  the  rattle  of  crockery  and  the  sound  of  a  fire  being 
poked  up.  A  little  later  he  returned,  bearing  a  bowl  of  cof- 
fee, some  lumps  of  sugar,  and  a  big  slice  of  bread  and  butter. 

"  You'll  get  a  real  breakfast  at  eight  o'clock,"  he  said. 
"  But  this  will  carry  you  on  in  the  meanwhile."  He  laid 

166 


THE   ADVENTURER 

the  things  on  the  board  table,  and  impassively  resumed  his 
tailoring.  "  You're  new,  of  course?  "  he  asked. 

"Arrived  last  night,"  said  Kirk. 

"How  many?" 

"  How  many  what?  " 

"  Weren't  there  any  others?  " 

"  Oh,  no — that  is — just  myself."  Kirk  hesitated  to 
name  Vera  Westbrook. 

"  How  do  you  like  Crazy-town  ?  " 

"  It — it  seems  all  right,"  said  Kirk.  "  I  haven't  got  my 
bearings  yet." 

The  young  man  sewed  steadily.  Kirk  drank  his  coffee, 
and  took  bites  of  bread  and  butter.  There  was  something 
pleasantly  homelike,  almost  domestic,  in  the  scene. 

The  young  man  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence. 

"  You  look  a  good  sort,"  he  said. 

"  I  am,"  said  Kirk,  smiling. 

"  My  chum  died  two  weeks  ago  of  fever,"  went  on  the 
young  man,  stitching  hard.  "  It's  pretty  hard  to  have  no 
chum,  and  all  the  best  fellows  have  been  snapped  up.  Why 
shouldn't  you  and  I  hit  it  off?  " 

"  Love  to,"  said  Kirk. 

"  I'm  St.  Aubyn." 

"  I'm  Kirkpatrick — though  everybody  calls  me  Kirk." 

They  shook  hands  on  it. 

"  Now,  chum,"  said  Kirk,  leaning  his  elbows  on  the 
table,  "  tell  me  all  about  this  thing  here — who  are  the  people, 
and  what's  the  ship,  and  what  sort  of  tomfoolery  is  it,  any- 
how?" 


167 


CHAPTER   XIV 

'T.  AUBYN  settled  his  eyeglass,  laid  the  trou- 
sers on  one  side,  and  reached  for  a  pipe  that 
was  stuck  in  a  pocket  of  the  canvas.  He 
filled  and  lit  it  deliberately. 

"  Kirk,"  he  said,  "  that's  a  pretty  big 
order.  Let's  begin  with  what  I  can't  tell  you — the  object 
of  the  whole  business — the  question  that  a  fellow  naturally 
asks  first.  The  idea  is  to  sail  away  somewhere  after  some- 
thing. Nobody  knows  exactly  what  it  is — none  of  us,  at 
least — though  the  wiseacres  say  that  it  is  an  Inca's  tomb, 
or  an  ancient  gold  mine,  or  an  extinct  mint.  Whatever  it 
is,  it  is  situated  in  the  No  Man's  Land  to  the  southward — 
a  country  with  hardly  any  game,  not  enough  water  to  brush 
your  teeth  with,  and  a  million  savages  aching  to  fight  us. 
To  penetrate  such  a  region  in  the  ordinary  way  is  an  im- 
possibility." 

"  But  what  do  the  million  savages  drink?  "  inquired  Kirk. 
"Beer,  or  what?" 

"  Oh,  there's  water,  of  course,"  replied  St.  Aubyn,  "  but 
the  trouble  is  to  find  it.  It's  scattered  about  in  dirty  little 
holes  that  you  can  pass  within  thirty  feet  of  and  never  see. 
Those  fellows  know  where  they  are,  and  we  don't.  The 
only  way  is  to  carry  your  own  supply,  and  that's  why  we 
are  putting  four  thousand  gallons  into  the  Fortuna" 
"  So  that's  her  name,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  Fortuna.    Well,  you  see,  to  get  down  there, 
lugging  every  pound  of  water  and  every  pound  of  food — 

1 68 


THE   ADVENTURER 

and  all  this,  mind  you,  with  a  big  enough  party  to  fight  its 
way  through — is  a  job  that  couldn't  be  done  with  horses  or 
oxen.  A  small  party  might  make  a  dash  at  it,  and  trust  to 
luck,  but  the  risk  would  be  frightful.  It  would  be  ten  to 
one  that  they'd  either  die  of  thirst  or  hunger,  or  else  be 
massacred  to  a  man.  Besides,  even  if  they  got  through,  how 
could  they  bring  the  stuff  back?  It  must  have  seemed  an 
insurmountable  problem  till  some  one  hit  on  the  idea  of  a 
ship.  Here  we  have  mobility,  ample  food  and  water,  and 
cargo  space  for  all  the  gold  in  the  Bank  of  England.  Kirk, 
it  was  a  conception  of  genius !  " 

"  If  it  will  work,"  assented  the  latter.  "  But  this  busi- 
ness of  putting  sails  to  a  traction  engine,  however  brilliant 
it  may  be  in  theory,  has  a  practical  side  that  makes  a  fellow 
skeptical.  Load  her  up  with  your  food  and  water,  put 
aboard  your  crew — and  then,  what  if  she  sticks  ?  " 

"  Oh,  we've  seen  her  do  it,"  exclaimed  St.  Aubyn. 
"  Gad,  I  never  saw  such  a  sight  in  my  life.  We  tried  her 
out  a  week  ago,  and  she  sailed  like  a  bird.  She  was  a  bit 
sulky  at  first,  but  the  moment  she  got  moving  there  was 
no  holding  her.  By  Jove,  chum,  I  wish  you  had  been 
there!  Nobody  dreamed  she  would  do  it.  I  didn't  my- 
self. We  all  expected  a  fizzle,  and  the  croakers  were 
knocked  silly.  She  went  off  like  an  arrow,  with  a  rattle 
and  a  bang  and  a  bumpty-bump  that  nearly  jounced  the 
heads  off  us !  " 

"How  far  did  she  go?" 

"  About  a  quarter  of  a  mile." 

"A  quarter  of  a  mile!"  exclaimed  Kirk.  "Why,  I 
thought  you  were  going  to  say  sixty !  " 

"  One  of  the  steering  chains  broke.  It  was  too  light  for 
the  work,  and  it  snapped  like  a  piece  of  string.  We  had  to 
lower  the  sails  in  double-quick  time,  and  just  saved  her  from 

169 


THE   ADVENTURER 

going  over.     But  it  was  a  great  success.     She  can  sail  all 
right." 

"Was  she  tried  again?" 

"  No." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Oh,  it  showed  that  she  could  do  it.  Once  that  was 
settled  what  was  the  good  of  wasting  time?  In  fact,  there 
was  a  big  row  at  headquarters  over  it,  but  Westbrook  was 
satisfied,  and  he  carried  the  day.  We  are  terribly  behind- 
hand as  it  is,  what  with  the  sickness  we've  had — nineteen 
deaths  in  two  months — and  all  sorts  of  heartbreaking  delays 
and  bothers.  The  truth  is,  old  fellow"  (here  St.  Aubyn 
lowered  his  voice  to  a  deeply  confidential  key)  "the  whole 
affair  is  only  held  together  by  one  man.  He's  the  plank 
between  us  and  eternity,  and  not  much  of  a  plank  at  that. 
It's  my  belief  that  the  expedition  may  collapse  at  any  mo- 
ment, and  that  if  Westbrook  died  we  might  as  well  pack 
up  and  call  it  all  off." 

"  Westbrook  ?    Who's  Westbrook  ?  " 

"  Oh,  chum,  a  splendid  old  fellow.  You  must  have 
heard  his  name.  He's  the  great  gunman — the  Yankee  in- 
ventor— who's  been  settled  in  England  and  making  guns  for 
the  British  Government  for  the  last  twelve  years.  Ezra 
Westbrook  and  Company  Limited.  The  Fortuna  was  his 
idea,  his  invention,  and  he's  the  only  one  of  our  bosses  who 
has  any  sense  or  any  manners.  A  fine  old  chap,  with  a 
splendid  energy  that  overrides  everything — even  his  ill  health. 
He  was  the  first  to  get  the  fever,  and  has  never  really  shaken 
it  off.  Poor  old  fellow,  it's  all  he  can  do  to  totter  about, 
and  two  months  ago  we  thought  he  was  going  to  die.  But 
ill  as  he  is,  he  is  the  master  mind  of  the  enterprise,  and  the 
one  that  holds  things  together.  Without  him  it  would  all 
tumble  like  a  card  house." 

170 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  Who  are  the  rest  of  them?  " 

"  Well,  there's  Jackson.  You  had  a  little  talk  with  him, 
didn't  you?  That  was  enough,  wasn't  it?  They  say  he  was 
dropped  from  the  transport  service  because  of  insanity.  This 
was  about  his  sole  qualification  to  be  put  in  charge  of  us — at 
least,  nobody  can  see  any  other.  He's  a  great  big  overbear- 
ing, domineering  ass,  with  a  genius  for  making  mischief  and 
inventing  trouble.  Not  incompetent — he  knows  his  business 
— he's  all  right  when  it  comes  to  ships — but  childishly  vain, 
childishly  pretentious — always  looking  for  slights,  and  find- 
ing them.  And  worst  of  all  he  isn't  loyal.  He's  been  dead 
against  the  affair  since  the  beginning.  He  makes  hardly  any 
secret  of  his  incredulity.  You  can  imagine  how  depressing 
that  is  for  us  fellows  under  him.  It  may  be  the  most  idiotic 
folly,  but  it  doesn't  become  him  to  assert  it.  Not  that  he 
does  so  in  words,  but  his  whole  attitude  is  one  of  hopeless- 
ness, and  I-told-you-so.  He  made  you  salute  him,  didn't 
he?  Well,  we've  had  more  rumpus  over  that  saluting  than 
in  building  the  Fortuna,  and  there  you  have  the  man's  char- 
acter in  a  nutshell." 

"  Why  doesn't  Westbrook  get  rid  of  him?  " 

"  Can't." 

"Why  can't  he?" 

"  Because  there  you  run  against  the  widow?  " 

"Who's  the  widow?" 

St.  Aubyn  laughed,  and  taking  the  pipe  from  his  mouth, 
blew  out  a  cloud  of  smoke. 

"  She's  an  old  lady,"  he  went  on  mirthfully,  "  a  wonder- 
ful old  lady,  as  rich  as  Croesus,  and  as  cracked  as  a  March 
hare,  who  has  put  up  all  the  money.  Mrs.  Poulteney  Hitch- 
cock! By  Jove,  Kirk,  it's  a  rum  world  and  no  mistake! 
There  she  was  living  in  Paris,  a  rich  old  American  with  a 
million  a  minute,  when  somehow  or  other  she  met  Dr.  Von 
12  171 


THE   ADVENTURER 

Zedtwitz,  and  got  this  bee  in  her  bonnet.  Heaven  knows 
what  it  has  cost  her  already,  or  what  it  may  let  her  in  for — 
though  that's  the  least  of  it.  She's  a  thoroughbred  with  her 
money,  and  never  counts  the  change.  Anyhow,  she  took  up 
the  scheme  with  volcanic  enthusiasm,  and  never  rested  a  sec- 
ond till  it  was  in  shape  and  moving.  They  say  she  went  to 
Westbrook,  sent  in  her  card,  and  laid  the  problem  before 
him.  '  You're  an  inventor,'  she  said.  '  You  have  brains, 
I  have  money.  Is  a  land-ship  feasible — and  if  it  is,  will  you 
build  it  ?  I  don't  mind  what  it  costs,  but  you  must  guarantee 
to  have  it  work.'  Westbrook  tried  to  dissuade  her.  He 
told  me  himself  that  at  first  he  regarded  her  as  a  lunatic 
and  attempted  to  get  rid  of  her.  But  she  wouldn't  be  got 
rid  of.  She  hung  on.  He  took  a  week  to  think  it  over,  and 
then  began  to  get  excited  himself  and  see  possibilities.  At 
first  he  went  into  it  more  as  a  joke  than  anything  else — a 
sort  of  scientific  escapade,  you  know.  But  his  interest  soon 
changed  into  downright  seriousness. 

"  You  know  the  Fortuna  is  built  of  aluminum — and  you 
know  also  that  aluminum  is  the  lightest  metal  that  exists? 
Haven't  you  ever  wondered  why  it  is  not  used  more?  I 
mean  in  general  engineering?  Well,  I  will  tell  you.  No- 
body has  ever  been  able  to  braze  it  properly — solder  it  to- 
gether, you  know.  Oh,  yes,  it's  done  after  a  fashion,  of 
course,  as  with  airships  and  saucepan  handles  and  such 
things — but  not  really  practically.  So  far  it  has  been  like 
building  wooden  houses  with  tacks  instead  of  nails.  Well, 
Westbrook  got  that  missing  solder.  Took  him  a  year,  but 
he  got  it.  Ran  it  down  and  bagged  it.  It's  a  conglomeration 
of  silver,  copper,  gold,  and  platinum,  and  the  secret  of  it  all 
will  be  worth  a  fortune.  Crawshaw  says  it  will  put  alu- 
minum second  to  steel. 

"  Expensive?  Well,  I  should  say  it  was!  But,  for  that 
172 


THE   ADVENTURER 

matter,  so  is  balloon  silk  for  sails  in  place  of  canvas.  You 
noticed  that,  didn't  you?  Oh,  yes,  to  save  weight.  Every- 
thing to  save  weight.  Hickory,  bamboo,  silk  rope,  nickel 
steel,  Norwegian  iron  wire — every  pound  is  counted.  They 
even  say  that  fat  men  will  be  discriminated  against!  Why, 
even  our  blankets  were  specially  manufactured  of  the  finest 
and  lightest  wool — the  same  idea,  you  see.  Not  even  boots 
— only  slippers!  Light  marching  order,  and  nothing  carried 
that  can  possibly  be  felt." 

St.  Aubyn  stopped  and  puffed  vigorously  at  his  pipe. 

"  Now  you  know  all  I  do,"  he  remarked. 

"Not  quite,"  said  Kirk.  "Let's  get  along  to  Dr.  Von 
Zedtwitz.  You  haven't  told  me  about  him  yet.  In  the 
who's  who  of  this  business  where  does  he  come  in  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he's  our  Columbus,"  returned  St.  Aubyn.  "  A 
Prussian  Columbus  with  a  Viking  beard.  A  man  about  fifty 
— big,  thickset,  and  paunchy.  He's  had  charge  of  the  trans- 
portation, and  consequently  till  lately  we've  seen  but  little 
of  him.  The  steamers  are  in  his  department,  and  the  mails, 
and  the  whole  task  of  getting  things  up  here.  It  must  be 
said  that  he  has  done  it  magnificently.  '  My  yob,'  he  calls 
it.  He  not  only  speaks  Spanish,  which  none  of  the  rest  can 
do,  but  he  has  a  smattering  of  Indian  dialects.  He  knows  all 
this  country  like  the  palm  of  his  hand,  and  is  one  of  those 
indefatigable,  cast-iron,  shove-it-along  chaps  that  go  at  a 
thing  like  a  bull.  I  take  my  hat  off  to  Zeddy.  He's  a  Teu- 
tonic whirlwind  of  capacity  and  enterprise.  A  bit  coarse 
and  rough,  and  often  tipsy,  but,  by  Jove,  chum,  he  shines 
out  in  the  general  muddle  like  a  diamond.  If  the  Fortuna 
ever  does  sail  it  will  be  due  to  him  and  Westbrook." 

"So  those  are  our  leaders?"  said  Kirk.  "Westbrook, 
Von  Zedtwitz,  Mrs.  Poulteney  Hitchcock,  and  Jackson — is 
that  right  ?  " 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  Yes,"  returned  St.  Aubyn.  "  They  constitute  a  sort  of 
board  of  directors,  with  Jackson  as  the  mouthpiece.  There 
are  a  couple  of  more  at  headquarters,  but  they  don't  count 
particularly — McCann,  the  paymaster,  and  Phillips,  the 
doctor.  But  those  you  name  are  the  Big  Four,  as  we  call 
them.  Though  if  Westbrook  could  manage  it,  it  would 
boil  down  to  a  Big  Three.  He  can't  hide  his  dislike  of  Jack- 
son, and  has  moved  heaven  and  earth  to  get  him  out.  But 
the  captain  is  on  the  soft  side  of  the  old  lady,  and  as  she  has 
put  up  all  the  money — or  the  best  part  of  it — the  brute  sticks, 
and  nothing  can  budge  him.  A  shame,  isn't  it?  The  crazy 
ass  will  end  by  ruining  everything,  if  he  hasn't  done  so 
already.  It  makes  me  hot  to  think  of  it,  because,  on  the 
whole,  we've  shown  a  pretty  fine  spirit,  and  have  worked  like 
Turks,  and  deserve  to  get  some  kind  of  a  run  for  our  money. 
To  break  up  now,  on  the  very  eve  of  success,  would  be  pretty 
hard,  wouldn't  it  ?  " 

Kirk  nodded  his  head  in  silent  assent. 

An  alarm  clock  went  off  in  the  rear  quarter  somewhere. 
St.  Aubyn  jumped  to  his  feet,  and  even  as  he  did  so  a  flap 
was  raised,  revealing  a  very  bronzed  countenance,  seamed 
and  weatherbeaten,  together  with  one  hairy  hand. 

"  Time  to  set  the  table,"  said  the  apparition. 

"  Come  in,  Hildebrand,"  cried  St.  Aubyn.  "  Here's  a 
new  chap — want  you  to  meet  him !  " 

The  newcomer  obeyed.  He  was  a  short,  dark  man  with 
piercing  black  eyes,  clothed  in  pyjamas,  and  with  a  cook's 
apron  round  his  waist. 

"  Major  Hildebrand,  late  of  the  Austrian  army,"  said 
St.  Aubyn,  by  way  of  introduction,  "  and  the  best  cook  in 
camp.  Sad  to  see  a  cavalryman  so  reduced,  but  we've  all 
come  down  a  peg  in  Felicidad.  Major  Hildebrand,  this  is 
Mr.  Lewis  Kirkpatrick! " 

174 


THE   ADVENTURER 

The  pair  shook  hands. 

"  Welcome  to  camp,"  said  the  ex-cavalryman.  "  Hope 
you've  brought  some  potatoes  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  remember  seeing  any." 

Hildebrand  went  through  with  a  boisterous  pantomime 
of  despair. 

"  I  have  a  reputation  to  keep  up,"  he  said,  "  but  how  can 
I  do  it  with  nothing  but  can,  can,  can!  That  De  Ruyter 
is  a  Dutch  thief,  and  pilfers  everything  on  the  way.  I  will 
go  down  and  pull  his  nose  after  breakfast.  Potatoes  or  blood ! 
I  was  promised  sixteen  crates,  and  if  one  is  missing,  I  will 
call  him  out  and  shoot  him,  Austrian  fashion." 

The  little  officer  looked  quite  capable  of  doing  it,  and 
he  was  expatiating  further  on  the  subject,  with  much  noise 
and  gesticulation,  when  a  hissing  in  the  kitchen  caused  him 
to  dart  out.  St.  Aubyn  began  to  spread  the  table  with  tin 
cups  and  plates  which  he  brought  in  on  a  huge  tray.  Kirk 
insisted  on  helping  him,  and  together  they  soon  had  the  table 
spread  for  twenty-two  men.  They  were  in  the  midst  of 
these  domesticities  when  the  major  popped  his  head  in  and 
wanted  to  know  the  latest  news  of  the  "  crisis  in  Hungary." 

Kirk  did  not  know  that  there  had  been  a  crisis  in  Hun- 
gary, and  for  the  moment  was  nonplussed.  But  he  hastened 
to  assure  Hildebrand  that  it  had  passed. 

"  And  Kossuth  ?  "  cried  the  little  major.  "  What  is  the 
last  intelligence  of  Kossuth  ?  " 

"  Busy  as  ever,"  said  Kirk  solemnly.  It  seemed  a  safe 
statement,  and  committed  him  to  nothing. 

"  He's  a  dirty  dog,"  exclaimed  the  major,  and  forthwith 
disappeared. 

A  few  minutes  later  they  were  invaded  by  a  swarm 
of  men  who  tramped  in  noisily  and  crowded  the  benches 
like  a  parcel  of  schoolboys,  shoving  and  joking,  as  each  one 

175 


THE   ADVENTURER 

sought  his  accustomed  place.  St.  Aubyn  put  Kirk  between 
a  six-foot-three  Australian  and  a  long-nosed  Cockney  Jew, 
and  then  bustled  off  to  get  an  immense  coffee  pot  with  which 
he  began  to  fill  the  cups.  The  major  appeared  with  a  platter 
of  corned-beef  hash  and  a  capacious  sea  pie,  both  of  which 
he  served  from  an  adjoining  table  with  a  celerity  and  dash 
that  spoke  of  long  practice.  Above  the  clatter  of  knives  and 
forks  voices  could  be  heard  demanding:  "After  you  with 
the  milk!  Here,  Bobby,  coffee!  Say,  old  man,  fill  her  up 
again,  will  you !  "  Bobby,  as  St.  Aubyn  was  familiarly  called, 
was  kept  on  the  rush,  while  the  major  circled  about  the 
table,  grabbing  empty  tin  plates  and  refilling  them  from  the 
sideboard.  It  was  a  vigorous  performance,  interspersed  with 
laughter  and  chaff,  and  if  anyone  were  overlooked  he  yelled 
out  the  fact  at  the  top  of  his  lungs.  There  were  twenty-two 
hungry  men  to  be  fed,  and  for  fifteen  minutes  Bobby  and 
the  major  had  to  dance.  Then  things  gradually  quieted 
down.  Pipes,  cigarettes,  and  cigars  appeared.  Plates  were 
pushed  back.  Elbows  settled  contentedly  on  the  table. 
Breakfast,  except  in  the  case  of  two  or  three,  was  over,  and 
tobacco  and  lethargy  was  now  the  order  of  the  day. 

Kirk  thought  he  had  never  seen  such  a  remarkable  col- 
lection of  men.  Individuality,  character,  resolution,  stood 
written  on  every  face.  Aquiline  features  predominated — big 
noses  and  strong  jaws.  The  majority  were  of  a  superior 
class,  and  many  had  the  unmistakable  accents  of  gentle- 
men. Anglo-Saxons  predominated — Englishmen,  Americans, 
Scotchmen,  Irishmen,  Australians,  Canadians — all  in  the 
prime  of  life.  Broad  shoulders  and  deep  chests  were  the 
rule,  and  the  average  of  good  looks  was  high.  They  were  a 
handsome,  fearless,  reckless-looking  set,  superb  rebels  from 
the  countinghouse  and  office,  with  none  of  the  grocer  in- 
stincts of  civilization.  The  noble  savages  of  their  generation, 

176 


THE   ADVENTURER 

who,  after  a  more  or  less  futile  attempt  to  adjust  themselves 
to  money  getting,  threw  up  a  struggle  for  which  they  were 
so  little  fitted,  and  hied  themselves  to  the  other  end  of  the 
earth.  There,  at  any  rate,  they  found  others  like  themselves, 
and  congenial  company,  hardships,  and  dangers. 

"  Who's  that  chap  over  there  ?  "  inquired  Kirk  of  the 
Australian  beside  him,  and  indicating  a  striking  looking  man 
with  a  scar  across  his  cheek. 

"  Moulson,"  returned  the  Australian  shortly. 

"  No,  I  don't  mean  his  name.  Where  does  he  come  from  ? 
What's  his  history?" 

The  Australian  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork. 

"  See  here,"  he  said  quietly,  "  you're  new  to  the  camp. 
Take  a  word  of  advice.  Don't  concern  yourself  with  what 
other  fellows  were  back  home.  Savvy?  " 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  any  harm.    I — I " 

"  It's  the  unwritten  law,  you  know.  Live  and  let  live — 
that's  our  motter.  And  a  bally  good  one,  too." 

Kirk  expressed  contrition. 

The  Australian  looked  mollified,  and  added,  not  un- 
kindly: "  What  if  you  were  to  be  put  through  your  facings?  " 

Kirk  judged  it  wiser  not  to  say  that  he  would  not  have 
shrunk  from  the  ordeal.  The  Australian's  air  implied  too 
plainly  that  people  in  glass  houses  shouldn't  throw  stones. 

"  I  was  a  rotten  bad  egg  myself,"  said  the  latter,  shoveling 
in  a  mouthful  of  hash.  "  But  what  business  is  that  of  yours, 
or  anybody's?  " 

"  No  offense,"  said  Kirk. 

"  Won't  mind  my  mentioning  it?  " 

"  Why,  certainly  not.    Glad  you  did." 

"  It  makes  everybody  feel  more  comfortable,  you  know. 
You'll  find  it  so  yourself.  We  don't  ask  any  questions.  We 
take  a  man  as  he  is.  It's  the  only  way." 

177 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  assented  Kirk. 

Then  the  man  on  the  other  side  of  him  bore  in — the 
long-nosed  Jew.  He  was  an  agreeable  fellow,  with  unex- 
pected humor  and  refinement.  He  was  a  violinist,  and  ex- 
pressed the  hope  that  Kirk  had  some  musical  abilities.  He 
had  managed  to  get  a  little  orchestra  together,  he  said,  and 
was  always  on  the  lookout  for  fresh  recruits.  Kirk,  con- 
fessed, with  some  embarrassment,  that  he  "  sang  a  little." 
Cohen  was  delighted  to  hear  it,  and  still  more  when  he 
brought  out  the  fact  that  Kirk  had  been  the  second  tenor 
in  a  quartet.  Kirk  blushed  at  the  recollection. 

"  It  was  only  in  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  he  said.  "  I  was 
blacked  up,  and  used  to  help  out  little  Eva's  deathbed  with 
nigger  melodies — the  slave  quartet,  you  know.  We  were 
supposed  to  be  quite  a  feature  of  the  show,  and  the  audience 
— when  there  was  any — certainly  used  to  snuffle  whenever 
we  got  a  good  whack  at  them.  We'd  tremolo  the  pathos, 
while  a  transparency  revealed  pink  angels,  and  Uncle  Tom 
being  assisted  into  heaven !  " 

The  ice  thus  broken  contributed  to  further  confidences 
on  each  side.  Others  gathered  about  them,  and  there  was  a 
general  introducing  and  handshaking.  Had  it  not  been  for 
the  overalls,  the  rolled-up  sleeves,  the  horny,  calloused  hands, 
Kirk  might  have  thought  himself  in  some  pleasant  club. 
There  was  the  same  good-fellowship,  the  same  easy  and 
cordial  manners.  Kirk  liked  his  new  companions,  and  they 
e  adently  liked  him,  and  a  pleasant  fraternization  made  him 
soon  feel  at  home.  Apparently  the  land-ship  and  the  object 
of  the  enterprise  had  probably  become  stale  subjects.  At 
least,  neither  was  touched  upon  in  their  talk,  which  turned 
more  on  the  trivialities  of  their  every-day  existence,  with 
jokes  and  personalities  that  left  Kirk  somewhat  in  the  dark. 
But  he  learned  two  things.  "  He  "  always  referred  to  Cap- 


THE   ADVENTURER 

tain  Jackson,  and  "  she "  to  Mrs.  Poulteney  Hitchcock. 
"  He  "  was  the  butt  of  everyone's  scorn,  and  the  laughter 
and  derision  was  always  the  loudest  when  anything  was  told 
to  his  disadvantage.  "  She  "  was  let  off  more  lightly,  and 
did  not  lack  for  defenders.  The  attitude  of  the  mess  toward 
her  was  kindly  and  humorous,  and  the  shafts  of  their  ridi- 
cule were  not  barbed.  But  the  captain  was  the  common 
enemy,  the  detested  tyrant,  whose  vagaries,  affectations,  and 
domineering  ways  were  bitterly  assailed. 

At  nine  o'clock,  as  they  trooped  back  to  work,  Cohen 
enlightened  Kirk  as  to  the  relations  existing  between  "  he  " 
and  "  she." 

"  Jackson  is  playing  a  double  game,"  he  said.  "  The  only 
treasure  he  is  after  is  the  old  lady's  money,  and  if  he  could 
persuade  her  to  marry  him  he  would  drop  all  this  like  a  hot 
potato.  He's  a  schemer  and  a  funker,  and  deliberately  makes 
every  difficulty  that  he  can  in  order  to  discourage  us  and 
keep  us  back.  Of  course,  he  dares  not  show  his  hand  too 
openly  for  fear  of  scaring  his  bird,  who,  to  do  her  justice,  is 
the  keenest  of  us  all  to  pull  the  thing  off.  But  drops  of 
water  will  wear  away  a  stone,  you  know,  and  as  she  is  very 
smitten  with  him  it  is  impossible  to  tell  what  may  not  happen. 
Can't  you  see  how  it  all  works  out?  His  worrying  about  her 
dear,  darling,  precious  health,  and  her  worrying  about  his? 
He's  afraid  to  make  the  great  coup  of  getting  the  fever — 
pretending  to,  I  mean — lest  he  might  be  deposed  from  the 
command  and  put  out  of  harm's  way.  He  can't  count  too 
confidently  on  the  old  lady,  so  he  lets  it  go  at  rolling  up 
his  eyes  and  doing  suffering  martyr,  the  beast — besides  set- 
ting everybody  by  the  ears,  and  hampering  us  in  a  thou- 
sand underhanded  ways.  He's  a  low,  calculating  scoun- 
drel, and  we  shall  never  move  a  yard  if  he  can  possibly 


prevent  it!  " 


179 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  But  can't  anybody  undeceive  her  about  him  ?  Show  him 
up?  Expose  him?" 

"  Yes,  Westbrook  has  tried  to,  and  so  did  old  Zeddy,  but 
they  were  both  too  worked  up  to  have  the  necessary  tact — 
Westbrook  never  had  much,  and  Zeddy  never  had  any.  It 
was  rather  insulting  to  the  old  lady  to  be  told  that  nobody 
could  care  for  her  except  for  her  money — and  I  fancy  that 
was  about  how  they  put  it.  Their  interference  only  did  us 
more  harm,  for  as  they  are  now  hardly  on  speaking  terms 
with  the  captain  this  has  doubled  his  chances  of  being  alone 
with  her.  She's  a  queer  old  person,  and  rather  likes  being 
the  storm  center.  The  right  way  would  have  been  to  make 
much  of  her,  and  have  hoisted  the  captain  on  his  own  petard. 
But  they  weren't  Machiavellian  enough  for  that." 

Cohen  sighed. 

"  Frankly,"  said  Kirk,  "  what's  your  opinion  of  it  all?  " 

"  I  haven't  any." 

"  But  will  this  contrivance  actually  sail  ?  " 

"  It  did  once." 

"  And  what  are  we  going  for?  " 

"  God  knows." 

"  It  is  a  treasure-hunting  business  of  some  kind  surely." 

"  That's  the  general  impression." 

"  But  what  do  you  think?  " 

"  I  don't  think.  I  just  go  on  from  day  to  day — and 
wonder." 

"Wonder  at  what?" 

"At  every  thing!" 


180 


CHAPTER   XV 

S  he  drew  near  the  Fortuna  again  Kirk's  amaze- 
ment was  even  greater  than  before.  The 
audacity  of  such  a  conception  struck  him 
dumb.  Her  towering  masts,  her  gigantic 
wheels,  her  lofty  superstructure,  at  once 
daunted  and  fascinated  him.  The  boldness  of  the  idea,  and 
the  boldness  of  its  accomplishment  took  his  breath  away. 
She  seemed  to  have  grown  bigger,  longer,  more  colossal  in 
the  interval  of  his  absence.  His  mind  had  unconsciously 
dwarfed  her  in  recollection,  unable  to  retain  the  vastness 
of  her  bulk.  The  enormous  fabric,  looming  high  above  him, 
stirred  him  as  it  might  some  runaway  country  boy  at  the 
first  sight  of  a  deep-water  ship.  He  had  something  of  the 
same  surprise,  the  same  awe,  the  same  delighted  bewilder- 
ment. 

But  he  was  given  no  time  to  fully  satisfy  these  sensations. 
He  followed  his  party  aboard,  and  hastened  to  report  himself 
to  Mr.  Crawshaw.  The  little  engineer,  in  the  center  of  a 
busy  throng,  was  hard  at  work  on  his  gas  engine.  The  eight 
cylinders  were  in  position,  together  with  the  drums,  ratio 
gears,  clutches,  and  other  more  important  parts  of  a  powerful 
gasoline  winch.  But  the  lesser  details  and  .adjustments  had 
yet  to  be  seen  to,  and  these  were  claiming  the  energies  of  the 
mechanics.  Kirk  got  a  smile,  an  encouraging  word,  and 
then  found  himself  on  his  knees  with  a  pair  of  pliers  in  his 
hand,  and  the  job  before  him  of  making  fast  a  number  of 
hose  connections.  Crawshaw  himself  was  installing  the  mag- 

181 


THE   ADVENTURER 

nets,  but  his  eyes  were  everywhere,  and  nothing  escaped  him. 
No  one  had  a  chance  to  blunder.  He  seemed  to  see  through 
the  back  of  his  head.  His  perky  voice  forestalled  all 
questions. 

"  You've  forgotten  the  shim,  Joe !  No,  no,  the  other 
end,  Charlie!  Where's  your  washer,  Bill?  See  that  she 
seats  right  first — hammering's  no  good !  Here,  I'll  show  you, 
Kirkpatrick !  "  And  so  it  went  with  an  unvarying  good 
nature  that  nothing  could  ruffle. 

All  about  them  was  the  clang  of  hammers,  the  tramp  of 
feet,  the  ringing  of  metal,  and  the  hoarse,  confused  buzz  of 
seventy  men  hard  at  work — shouts,  orders,  sullen  reverbera- 
tions, the  sound  of  tackles  clattering,  banging,  forges  roar- 
ing, anvils  reechoing  musically  under  the  sledge,  drills 
crunching — an  exhilarating  pandemonium  of  vigorous  and 
well-directed  effort,  not  a  blow  wasted,  and  every  man  eager 
to  do  his  best. 

As  the  sun  mounted  toward  the  zenith  the  heat  grew 
intense.  A  spare  topsail  was  triced  up  by  way  of  an  awning, 
and  roughly  guyed  out  to  protect  the  mechanics,  but  it  served 
little  to  mitigate  the  ovenlike  rays.  Everyone  worked  in  a 
bath  of  perspiration.  The  metal  deck  was  roasting.  The 
eyes  were  blinded  by  a  persistent  trickle  of  sweat.  But  still 
the  work  went  on  with  the  same  determination.  There  was 
a  breaker  of  lukewarm  water  mixed  with  oatmeal.  The 
combination  was  supposed  to  be  good  for  allaying  thirst. 
But  the  men  emptied  it  entirely,  and  called  for  another,  and 
then  another.  The  tinkle  of  the  tin  cup  and  chain  was  con- 
tinuous. Some  one  was  always  drinking,  and  there  was  usu- 
ally another  waiting  to  take  the  utensil  from  his  hand. 

'By  eleven  o'clock  the  forward  winch  was  not  only  fin- 
ished, but  was  in  active  operation.  The  lower-deck  gangs 
had  no  longer  to  hoist  up  their  material  with  a  yeo-heave- 

182 


THE   ADVENTURER 

yeo.  The  winch  did  it  for  them — the  first  load  being  received 
with  cheers.  Then  work  was  begun  on  the  after  winch — the 
exact  duplicate  of  the  other — and  by  noon  the  bedplate  was 
laid  and  securely  locked. 

There  was  a  brass  bell  on  the  bridge,  and  it  was  rung 
loudly  as  a  signal  for  knocking  off.  To  Kirk  it  seemed  the 
most  welcome  sound  he  had  ever  heard  in  his  life.  He  was 
dizzy  and  faint  with  the  unaccustomed  labor,  performed 
under  such  trying  conditions,  and  his  voice  rose  with  the 
rest  in  a  yell  of  satisfaction.  This  was  one  of  the  time- 
honored  customs  of  the  camp,  and  it  was  a  point  of  pride 
with  everyone  to  make  all  the  hullabaloo  possible  at  the  first 
stroke  of  the  bell.  It  had  for  them  the  added  zest  of  some- 
thing forbidden  by  the  detested  Jackson.  It  jarred  on  his 
rigid  naval  notions,  and  he  had  done  his  utmost  to  suppress 
it.  But  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts  he  was  met  by  a  tacit  rebel- 
lion, and  twice  a  day  his  ears  were  affronted  by  that  mighty 
shout. 

Kirk  followed  his  companions  back  to  camp,  where  St. 
Aubyn  and  the  major  had  a  capital  dinner  awaiting  them. 
The  circumstances  were  much  the  same  as  at  breakfast.  The 
tin  plates,  the  clatter,  the  languor,  the  smoke.  The  interval 
was  longer,  however,  being  from  twelve  to  two.  These  were 
the  most  sweltering  hours  of  the  day.  There  was  less  talk 
and  laughter,  fewer  stories.  Many  of  the  men  stretched 
out  on  the  floor  and  dozed  off  to  sleep.  Some  even  had 
places  that  had  grown  to  be  regarded  as  their  own,  and 
which  it  was  bad  form  for  others  to  annex.  St.  Aubyn,  clear- 
ing the  table,  stepped  carefully  between  the  recumbent  fig- 
ures. The  mutual  consideration,  the  good-fellowship,  the 
kindness  of  it  all,  struck  Kirk  very  pleasantly.  It  was  Lib- 
erty Hall,  and  everyone  was  allowed  to  do  as  he  pleased. 
You  could  sleep  on  your  head  if  you  wanted  to,  and  if  you 

183 


THE   ADVENTURER 

fancied  some  special  corner  it  speedily  became  your  own. 
You  could  borrow  anything  you  wanted,  and  take  it  almost 
as  a  right.  Men  of  the  right  stamp — those  who  have  trav- 
eled and  roughed  it — fall  very  naturally  into  community  life, 
and  shed  all  the  ordinary  little  meannesses  and  selfishnesses 
as  readily  as  they  do  their  good  clothes.  Such  an  association 
engenders  the  primitive  virtues,  and  submission  to  public 
opinion  becomes  instinctive. 

At  two  o'clock  the  order  was  given  to  turn  to  again. 
They  straggled  out  into  the  blazing  sunlight,  and  took  the 
track  for  the  Fortuna.  It  was  a  sleepy,  yawning,  listless 
procession,  and  none  of  them  became  really  wide  awake  till 
the  foremen  marshaled  them  to  their  respective  tasks.  Then, 
as  the  clang  and  uproar  recommenced  they  threw  off  their 
lethargy,  and  bent  to  work  with  a  will. 

The  after  winch  was  the  rendezvous  for  Crawshaw's 
men.  They  assembled  about  it  with  their  tools  while  the 
little  engineer  assigned  them  their  various  jobs.  Kirk  had 
grown  more  adept  since  the  morning.  He  had  got  the  prin- 
ciple of  the  thing  into  his  head,  and  was  consequently  much 
better  able  to  carry  out  his  instructions.  Crawshaw  noticed 
his  improvement  and  commended  him.  The  praise  did  Kirk 
good.  He  felt  less  at  a  disadvantage  with  the  others,  and 
forgot  the  heat,  the  flies,  and  the  dead  stifling  air.  The 
approbation  spurred  him  on,  and  he  laughed  and  joked  with 
his  comrades,  unmindful  of  anything  but  the  task  in  hand. 
He  learned  incidentally  that  the  engine  they  were  assembling 
had  been  especially  built  in  France,  weighed  but  seven  hun- 
dred pounds,  and  was  capable  of  producing  one  hundred  and 
twenty  horse-power,  a  marvel  of  lightness  and  strength. 
With  the  aid  of  the  drums  and  a  wire  cable  the  Fortuna, 
if  necessary,  could  extricate  herself  from  any  difficult  place, 
and  proceed,  after  a  fashion,  under  her  own  power — at  a 

184 


THE   ADVENTURER 

snail's  pace,  of  course,  and  at  an  unwarrantable  expense  of 
gasoline,  but  it  was  expected  to  save  her,  at  any  rate,  from 
actually  being  stuck  anywhere.  In  the  event  of  a  capsize  the 
winches  could  be  removed  to  the  ground,  anchored,  and 
used  to  right  her.  The  sails,  too,  could  be  hoisted  by  this 
means,  and  the  men  saved  much  heavy  labor.  Indeed,  these 
two  compact,  economical  engines  were  regarded  as  the  most 
important  parts  of  the  outfit,  and  represented  a  wealth  of 
potential  energy. 

By  half-past  three  the  Trades  began  to  blow,  and  the 
worst  of  the  day  was  over.  A  delicious  coolness  revived  the 
weary  and  drooping  men,  and  they  bared  their  heads,  and 
breathed  in  deep  inhalations  as  the  wind  made  the  awnings 
flap  and  swept  the  decks  with  a  welcome  boisterousness. 
Ah,  the  wind — in  days  to  come  Kirk  learned  to  wait  for  it 
with  consuming  eagerness.  It  brought  life,  strength,  and 
courage.  It  divided  the  day  from  hell  into  heaven.  Even 
in  the  most  oppressive  hours  it  gave  something  to  look  for- 
ward to,  and  therefore,  like  mercy,  was  twice  blessed.  The 
boys  called  it  "  the  corpse-reviver,"  and  some  of  the  topers 
even  went  the  length  of  comparing  it  favorably  with  beer. 

Shortly  after  the  wind  sprang  up  the  noise  on  the  lower 
deck  ceased,  and  the  ship  became  strangely  quiet.  Kirk  won- 
dered what  had  happened,  and  was  on  the  point  of  inquiring 
of  his  companions  when  he  was  electrified  to  see  a  pink  para- 
sol emerging  from  the  companion.  He  knew  in  a  moment 
whose  it  was,  and  his  heart  gave  a  leap.  Miss  Westbrook 
appeared  on  the  arm  of  an  oldish,  distinguished-looking  man, 
whose  pale  face  and  thin,  frail  figure  betrayed  considerable 
physical  weakness.  He  had  a  shawl  pinned  about  his  shoul- 
ders, and  walked  with  the  painful  deliberation  of  an  invalid. 
He  rested  at  the  head  of  the  companion,  holding  to  the  coam- 
ing of  the  hatch  as  though  to  steady  himself.  With  the  pair 

185 


THE  ADVENTURER 

was  a  third  person,  a  woman  of  about  sixty.  She  was  of 
medium  height,  somewhat  stout,  with  a  dark,  sallow,  viva- 
cious face,  all  puckered  up  with  smiles.  There  was  something 
mannish  in  the  cut  of  her  costume,  and  the  bright  feather 
run  through  her  felt  hat  added  a  note  of  elderly  skittishness. 
She  had  a  tough,  robust,  weatherbeaten  look  that  contrasted 
with  the  old  man's  evident  languor  and  the  girl's  delicate 
and  flowerlike  beauty,  and  her  incessant  smiling,  giggling, 
and  grimacing  affected  Kirk  somewhat  unpleasantly. 

There  was  a  general  stir  at  the  sight  of  the  newcomers. 
Work  slackened,  and  everyone  straightened  up  as  though  for 
inspection.  None  of  the  men  had  seen  Miss  Westbrook  be- 
fore, and  there  were  subdued  murmurs  of  admiration,  and 
much  covert  curiosity  as  they  gazed  at  her.  Crawshaw  came 
forward,  cap  in  hand,  and  was  introduced,  blushing  under 
the  ordeal  like  a  self-conscious  boy.  The  others  watched  him 
enviously,  and  craned  their  necks  to  listen  as  the  old  gentle- 
man said:  "Crawshaw,  this  is  my  daughter — Vera,  Mr. 
Crawshaw,  my  right-hand  man."  The  old  lady  tittered 
genially,  and  made  some  jeering  remarks  that  were  inaudible. 
Crawshaw  led  them  to  the  winch,  and  forthwith  plunged 
into  a  technical  discussion  with  his  superior,  while  Mrs. 
Poulteney  Hitchcock — for  it  was  she  herself — listened  with 
a  poll-parrot  expression  and  a  mischievous  gleam  in  her  crazy 
eyes. 

Vera,  demure  and  silent,  seemed  unaware  of  the  atten- 
tion she  excited.  She  held  to  her  father's  arm,  and  looked 
about  shyly,  her  face  lighting  as  she  beheld  Kirk.  He  had 
been  waiting  for  that  glance  of  recognition,  and  wondering 
how  he  ought  to  receive  it.  He  was  unprepared  for  her 
coming  over  to  him  and  extending  her  hand.  He  took  it  a 
little  sheepishly,  very  conscious  of  their  altered  positions  and 
of  the  astonishment  of  his  companions.  He  was  embarrassed 

186 


THE   ADVENTURER 

at  thus  being  singled  out  before  them,  and  found  some  dif- 
ficulty in  answering  her  greeting  in  the  same  gay  and  cordial 
tone.  But  she  had  hardly  more  than  said  his  name  when 
Mr.  Westbrook  caught  it,  and  turning  away  from  Craw- 
shaw,  he  also  came  over  to  Kirk. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you,"  he  said,  a  little  con- 
strainedly. "  I  feel  under  a  great  obligation  to  you,  Mr. 
Kirkpatrick.  Very  much  in  your  debt,  sir — very  much  in 
your  debt.  If  you  could  make  it  convenient  I  should  be  happy 
to  have  you  call  on  us  this  evening.  After  eight — ?  Very 
good,  very  good — I  shall  look  forward  to  it." 

Then  Mrs.  Hitchcock  bustled  up. 

"  So  you  are  Mr.  Kirkpatrick,  hee-hee!  I'm  the  mother 
of  the  ship,  you  know,  and  you  are  the  new  baby,  hee-hee! 
Over  a  hundred  of  them — like  the  old  lady  that  lived  in  a 
shoe!  What  do  you  think  of  sailing  over  the  land?  But 
we'll  do  it  in  spite  of  the  croakers!  If  only  every  man  will 
do  his  duty,  hee-hee!  And  we'll  go  home  rich  and  live  hap- 
pily ever  afterwards.  Live  in  Paris,  you  know.  No  place 
like  Paris.  Don't  you  like  Paris  best — I  do  ?  Tres  gaif  ires 
gai — always  something  for  every  minute  of  the  day!  And 
how  they'll  lionize  us!  We'll  be  invited  everywhere  to  tell 
about  it.  Afterwards  I'm  going  to  get  Mr.  Crawshaw  to 
make  me  a  model  of  the  Fortuna — hee-hee — in  miniature,  you 
know — and  put  it  in  a  special  room  all  by  itself!  " 

She  rattled  on  in  this  queer,  familiar,  scatter-brain  sort 
of  way,  never  waiting  for  an  answer,  and  incessantly  nod- 
ding and  grinning  like  a  marionette.  Kirk  did  not  know 
what  to  make  of  her,  and  he  was  greatly  relieved  when  the 
party  passed  on  and  mounted  the  bridge.  Vera  smiled  to  him 
in  farewell,  and  her  face  expressed  something  of  his  own 
perplexity  and  surprise.  The  old  lady  seemed  hardly  better 
than  half-witted,  and  it  was  disturbing  to  think  of  her  being 
13  187 


THE  ADVENTURER 

the  mainspring  of  the  enterprise.  It  took  on  a  more  ominous 
aspect,  too,  and  he  could  not  but  marvel  at  the  acquiescence 
of  his  companion  in  trusting  their  fate  to  a  mad  woman. 
He  timidly  expressed  himself  on  the  subject,  but  only  got 
laughed  at. 

"  Of  course,  she's  crazy,"  said  Crawshaw.  "  But  her 
money's  good,  isn't  it?  And  it's  only  crazy  people,  anyhow, 
who  can  take  up  revolutionary  ideas  and  work  them  out.  It 
takes  a  tomfool,  mad-hatter  sort  of  courage  to  back  any  new 
invention.  Those  hard-headed  men  you  read  about  are 
always  the  last  to  get  into  line.  They  see  all  the  difficulties, 
and  are  still  discussing  them  while  the  idiot  is  romping  home 
with  his  submarine,  or  wireless,  or  land-ship,  or  whatever 
it  is.  Then  the  hard-headed  men  begin  to  brag  about  the 
wonders  of  the  twentieth  century,  and  forget  how  they  re- 
sisted them  tooth  and  nail !  " 

This  was  received  with  a  hearty  chorus  of  approval. 
There  was  no  doubt  of  Mrs.  Poulteney  Hitchcock's  popu- 
larity. Her  readiness  to  buttonhole  anyone  indefinitely  was 
regarded  as  a  proof  of  democratic  spirit.  She  was  generous, 
too,  in  righting  any  little  injustices.  She  would  always  come 
and  see  you  if  you  were  ill.  If  you  died  she  would  cry  over 
you.  The  universal  judgment  was  that  she  was  a  "  gay  old 
bird  "  and  a  "  brick." 

At  half  past  five  work  was  knocked  off  for  the  day.  As 
Kirk  descended  to  the  lower  deck  he  was  pleased  to  notice 
how  much  was  being  accomplished.  It  was  possible  to  see 
something  of  the  scheme  of  cabins,  saloon,  and  passageways. 
The  draughty  oblong  was  being  floored,  screened,  and  di- 
vided. It  was  assuming  a  ship  look,  and  the  spidery  frame- 
work was  disappearing  behind  stretches  of  sheet  aluminum 
as  thin  as  paper.  There  were  gaps  for  doors  and  windows, 
for  ventilator  shafts  and  skylights.  On  the  ground  below 

188 


THE  ADVENTURER 

the  ship,  and  raised  on  jacks,  were  two  shallow  water  tanks 
in  process  of  being  built  into  the  fabric — one  forward,  one 
aft,  their  weight  being  thus  divided,  and  the  strain  carried 
near  the  trucks.  Altogether  a  very  respectable  progress  had 
been  made  for  the  day,  and  if  it  were  to  be  maintained  things 
would  soon  be  in  shape  for  the  start. 

Kirk  went  back  to  camp  exceedingly  content. 

At  supper,  however,  he  had  to  endure  a  disagreeable 
amount  of  questioning  and  innuendo.  Vera  Westbrook  was 
the  sole  topic  at  table,  and  though  the  talk  was  always  within 
bounds,  it  vexed  Kirk  to  hear  her  discussed  so  freely.  The 
whole  camp  was  buzzing  with  her  arrival.  It  was-  the 
sensation  of  the  moment,  and  a  big  one,  and  Kirk,  as  her 
fellow-passenger,  came  in  for  an  uncomfortable  amount  of 
attention.  He  put  on  a  stupid,  artless  air,  and  parried  with 
a  skillful  bluntness  inquiries  that  he  could  not  well  refuse 
to  answer.  To  speak  for  her,  to  seem  to  champion  her — he 
instinctively  felt  would  imply  a  friendship  that  might  do  her 
harm.  She  had  kept  much  to  herself,  he  said.  He  had  not 
presumed  to  do  more  than  offer  her  the  ordinary  courtesies. 
She  was  a  very  nice  young  lady.  It  pleased  him  to  see  that 
he  rather  lost  ground  with  his  companions.  He  was  plainly 
a  dull  fellow  who  had  lacked  the  audacity  to  make  good 
use  of  his  opportunities.  A  chump,  in  fact. 

The  chump  was  very  glad  to  be  relegated  to  this  de- 
spised class.  He  disliked  to  hear  her  name  on  those  men's 
lips,  and  resented  more  than  anything  insinuations  of  the 
lucky-dog  order.  Yet  to  show  anger  would  be  to  put  the 
cap  on  his  head.  He  was  oversensitive,  because  he  was  much 
in  love.  He  hated  even  to  have  his  divinity  admired,  to 
hear  her  called  a  "  stunner,"  to  listen  to  all  their  extrava- 
gant speculations  about  her.  The  arrival  of  a  young  and 
exceedingly  pretty  woman  in  a  camp  full  of  men  was  calcu- 

189 


THE   ADVENTURER 

lated  to  cause  a  stir.  The  mess  could  talk  of  nothing  else, 
and  Kirk  was  relieved,  indeed,  when  he  managed  to  get 
away  and  smoke  a  cigar  under  the  stars. 

At  eight  o'clock,  dressed  and  shaved,  he  started  off  to 
make  his  call.  He  found  Mr.  Westbrook  and  Vera  in  their 
sitting-room  tent,  the  latter  reading  an  English  newspaper 
aloud  to  her  father.  Kirk  was  greeted  cordially,  although  a 
little  formally,  and  was  asked  to  sit  down.  He  felt  nervous 
under  the  old  man's  penetrating  gaze,  and  his  heart  sank  at 
the  rather  stereotyped  expression  of  thanks  that  he  was  con- 
demned to  listen  to  for  the  second  time  that  day.  Every 
word  seemed  to  widen  the  social  distance.  He  replied  as  best 
he  could,  and  grew  acutely  unhappy.  There  was  no  real 
warmth  in  the  old  man's  manner.  But  he  was  an  honest  old 
man,  and  paid  his  debts.  He  wrote  out  Kirk  a  social  check. 
The  latter  had  a  melancholy  feeling  that  he  ought  to  pocket 
it  and  go  home.  Vera  was  very  grave  and  silent,  though  her 
eyes  often  sought  Kirk's  in  a  lingering  glance.  A  conversa- 
tion was  with  difficulty  kept  alive.  Mr.  Westbrook  de- 
scribed the  various  experiments  he  had  made  to  determine 
ground  resistance  in  designing  the  Fortuna.  It  was  all  very 
abstruse  and  difficult  to  follow.  The  old  gentleman  got 
rather  indignant  at  his  stupidity.  Kirk  was  given  a  paper 
full  of  curves,  and  had  to  effect  an  intelligence  that  was 
almost  feverish.  Altogether  it  was  most  depressing.  He 
could  not  get  the  curves  into  his  head.  He  answered  every 
question  wrong.  He  mixed  up  the  coefficients  of  one  thing 
with  the  coefficients  of  something  entirely  different.  He  sat 
there  hot  with  shame,  wondering  what  Vera  could  think  of 
him. 

She  had  never  seemed  so  beautiful  to  him  as  she  did  that 
night.  Never  so  remote,  so  utterly  beyond  those  preposterous 
hopes  he  had  cherished  so  guiltily  in  his  heart  of  hearts.  She 

190 


THE   ADVENTURER 

was  dressed  in  a  kimono,  dark  blue  in  color,  and  richly  em- 
broidered with  gold,  which  was  open  at  the  neck,  displaying 
to  perfection  her  round,  white  throat,  and  the  classic  model- 
ing of  her  mouth  and  chin.  It  tormented  Kirk  to  look  at 
her,  and  yet  he  could  not  keep  his  eyes  away.  He  ought  to 
have  concentrated  every  faculty  in  making  himself  agreeable 
to  her  father — in  understanding  curves,  in  brightening  up 
at  coefficients — but  instead  he  sat  there  like  a  clod,  with  a 
funereal  expression  that  not  only  wrote  him  down  an  ass, 
but  a  boor.  It  was  the  Waterloo  of  all  his  day  dreams.  He 
went  down  in  his  own  estimation.  Smarting  with  defeat, 
he  would  gladly  have  gone  away  to  hide  his  diminished  head 
forever. 

Fortunately  there  was  a  diversion  at  the  moment  he  least 
expected  it.  The  flap  of  the  tent  was  unceremoniously  lifted, 
and  a  bulky,  square-shouldered  Teutonic  individual,  with 
enormous  whiskers  jutting  from  his  chin  like  tusks,  and  a 
face  contorted  with  passion,  put  himself  half  in,  and  beck- 
oned vigorously  to  Westbrook. 

"  Why,  come  in,  Zedtwitz,"  said  the  old  man  cheerfully. 

"  No,  you  gome  out,"  cried  the  German  darkly.  "  It  is 
not  a  matter  for  other  ears.  I  have  been  again  insulted  by 
that  infamous  Jagson.  He  is  blaying  with  me — he  is  blay- 
ing  with  all  of  us !  Every  day  he  thinks  of  some  fresh  means 
to  thward  us.  Hunh!  You  know  him — you  know  the 
peeg — you  know  what  he  is  after!  But  the  time  has  come 
to  strige — to  chegmate  him — to  end  his  interference  and 
treachery.  Gome,  friend  Westbrook,  and  let  us  take  gounsel 
together,  you  and  I,  for  else  assuredly  I  will  get  my  pistol 
and  put  a  pullet  through  him." 

Von  Zedtwitz  looked  quite  capable  of  carrying  out  his 
threat.  His  eyes  were  smouldering,  and  his  broad,  rugged 
face  was  crimson  with  anger.  Standing  there  in  the  lamp- 


THE   ADVENTURER 

light  he  presented  a  formidable  figure,  with  his  sturdy  legs 
apart  and  his  open  shirt  displaying  the  hair  on  his  breast.  A 
German  of  the  Viking  species,  of  the  Bismarckian  generation 
— arrogant,  brave,  and  loyal — a  volcano  of  energy,  and  an  ill 
man  to  cross.  Westbrook  hastened  to  him.  There  was  a 
whispered  colloquy.  The  still,  small  voice  of  common  sense 
on  one  side — subsiding  Teutonic  thunders  on  the  other. 
Then  the  two  men  passed  out  into  the  night,  and  noth- 
ing more  was  heard  of  them  save  their  retreating  foot- 
steps. 

Vera  rose  and  ran  over  to  Kirk  with  outstretched  hands. 
She  had  appreciated  his  mortification,  his  forlornness,  his  de- 
jection. It  was  an  impulsive  moment  of  sympathy,  of  girlish 
tenderness,  of  sweet  concern,  for  her  poor  lover.  Kirk  took 
her  hands,  and  their  touch  transported  them  into  a  seventh 
heaven.  He  forgot  the  curves,  the  coefficients,  even  the  in- 
terruption that  had  made  a  tete-a-tete  possible.  He  drew 
her  down  beside  him  on  the  sofa.  He  bent  over  and  kissed 
her  warm,  plump  arm,  kissed  it  and  nuzzled  it  against  his 
cheek  in  an  ecstasy.  She  tried  to  free  herself,  but  he  clung 
to  her  hands  and  kissed  them  passionately,  only  stopping  when 
she  threatened  to  go  back  to  her  former  place. 

"  No,  you  must  be  good,"  she  said,  glowing  and  trembling 
in  an  exquisite  distress.  "  I  didn't  mean  that  at  all — only 
I  felt  so  sorry  for  you,  and  wanted  you  to  forget.  What  a 
poor,  silly  stupid  you  are.  Besides,  I  wanted  to  be  pitied,  too. 
I'm  in  disgrace!  " 

"Disgrace?" 

"  Papa  is  furious  with  me!  I've  had  an  awful  time.  I've 
been  crying  all  day!  " 

"  My  poor  darling." 

"  Hush,  you  mustn't  say  that.  You  mustn't  even  think 
it  to  yourself.  Don't  you  see  how  terrible  my  eyes  are — all 

192 


THE  ADVENTURER 

swelled  up  and  red?  I  was  embarrassed  every  time  you 
looked  at  me.  I  kept  my  head  sideways  all  I  could." 

"  And  your  adorable  little  nose  in  the  air,"  added  Kirk. 
"  I  thought  it  was  pride.  Disdain,  you  know.  Aristo- 
cratic  » 

"  Oh,  but  listen — I  want  to  tell  you — no,  no,  I'll  shut 
them — I  won't  have  you  look.  Please,  I  don't  like  it — you 
mustn't!  " 

Kirk  said  she  had  exaggerated.  That  they  were  the 
prettiest,  brightest,  starriest  eyes 

"  But,  no,  listen." 

"  I'm  listening." 

"  I've  done  a  dreadful  thing  in  coming  out.  Papa's  at 
his  wits'  ends.  He  can't  send  me  back,  and  he  can't  leave 
me  here,  and  he  swears  he  won't  take  me  along.  I'm  a  little 
white  elephant — and — and — I'm  glad  of  it.  Oh,  Mr.  Kirk- 
patrick,  he  is  so  ill,  so  changed — that  it  breaks  my  heart.  I 
am  trying  to  persuade  him  to  throw  it  all  up,  and  go  home 
at  once.  But  he  is  so  obstinate,  so  willful.  In  England  he 
didn't  take  it  so  seriously.  He  used  to  laugh  at  it  even  when 
he  was  working  at  the  plans.  It  was  a  sort  of  toy  to  him, 
a  relaxation,  an  amusing  mechanical  problem.  He  and  I 
used  to  play  for  hours  in  the  attic,  fanning  little  land-ships 
along  the  floor,  and  laughing  like  children.  'But  now  it's 
all  different.  He's  absolutely  absorbed  in  the  idea.  It  domi- 
nates everything.  You  can  see  yourself  how  ill  he  is.  I  was 
shocked  at  the  change  in  him.  This  awful  climate  is  terrible. 
Yet  he  won't  listen  to  a  word  of  reason.  I've  been  pleading 
with  him  all  day.  I  can't  tell  you  what  I've  gone  through — 
how  I've  begged  and  implored  him  to  give  it  up.  But  he's 
unshakable.  He  is  going  to  sail  in  that  ship  if  it  kills  him. 
That's  where  the  inventor  comes  in,  I  suppose.  His  pride, 
his  honor,  everything — and  an  insane  jealousy  that  grudges 

193 


THE  ADVENTURER 

the  glory  to  anybody  else.  He  invented  it,  he  built  it — and  he 
has  to  go,  too!  He  says  that's  his  reward.  That  he  would 
not  forfeit  it  for  anything  in  the  world.  That  it  would 
look  a  coward  to  turn  back  now,  as  though  he  had  not  the 
courage  of  his  own  convictions." 

She  broke  off  and  began  to  cry,  rolling  her  handkerchief 
in  a  little  ball  and  dabbing  her  eyes  with  it.  Kirk  tried  to 
say  something  comforting.  But  the  situation  was  too  insol- 
uble to  be  relieved  by  vague  endearments,  however  softly  they 
might  be  uttered. 

"  It's  just  this,"  she  went  on.  "  Either  I  go  with  him, 
sharing  the  risks  and  taking  care  of  him,  or  we  go  home 
together  directly.  I  have  told  him  that  a  million  times,  and 
I'm  going  to  stick  to  it.  I  don't  care  whether  I'm  a  little 
white  elephant  or  not.  He's  the  only  father  I  have,  and  I 
think  he  owes  it  to  me  to  take  care  of  himself.  Don't  you 
think  he  does?  Surely  your  only  child  is  more  important 
than  a  ship?  But  it's  terrible  to  argue  with  him  when  he 
is  so  ill  and  broken.  Yet  I  have  to.  I  must.  For  his  own 
sake  I  must.  Nag,  nag,  nag  till  I'm  sick  at  myself,  and  all 
I  accomplish  is  to  make  him  absolutely  furious.  He  has 
always  been  the  kindest  and  dearest  father  a  girl  ever  had. 
We  have  always  been  chums.  This  is  the  first  time  in  my  life 
that  he  has  ever  said  a  cross  word  to  me." 

"  Can't  you  get  the  others  to  help  you?  " 

"  The  others !  That's  the  worst  of  it.  They  would  be 
only  too  glad  to  get  rid  of  him — Captain  Jackson  and  Mrs. 
Hitchcock,  that  is.  They  are  the  most  impossible  people. 
The  captain's  only  idea  is  to  marry  the  old  lady  and  return 
home — while  on  her  part  she  is  so  fussy  and  dictatorial  that 
there  is  a  constant  clash  between  her  and  papa.  The  captain, 
for  his  own  purposes,  makes  all  the  mischief  he  can,  and  uses 
her  as  a  cat's  paw  to  drive  papa  frantic.  She  interferes  in 

194 


THE  ADVENTURER 

everything,  and  demands  all  sorts  of  impossibilities  in  spite 
of  the  agreement  that  papa  was  responsible  for  the  ship,  and 
was  to  have  a  free  hand.  But  papa  is  too  shrewd  to  be 
tricked,  and  he  fights  every  inch  of  his  ground,  though  it 
tells  on  him  horribly,  and  jangles  his  nerves  all  to  pieces." 

"  But  there  is  Von  Zedtwitz." 

"  The  doctor !  It's  all  papa  can  do  to  keep  him  tractable 
under  the  constant  deviling  he  gets  from  those  two.  He 
isn't  any  help  at  all.  And  he's  the  most  important  man  of 
all,  you  know,  as  he  is  the  originator  of  the  expedition  and 
holds  the  secret.  If  we  lost  him  we  would  not  know  where 
to  sail  to.  And  that's  what  Captain  Jackson  wants— to  goad 
him  and  insult  him  till  he  finally  throws  it  all  up  in  disgust. 
Oh,  it's  an  awful  tangle,  and  if  papa  wasn't  papa,  I'd  want 
him  to  stick  right  here  and  force  it  through.  But  being  my 
father,  his  health  comes  first,  and  I  would  willingly  see 
everything  go  to  pieces — gladly  see  it — just  to  get  him  away. 
But  he  can't  see  it  in  that  light.  In  some  ways  I  can  hardly 
blame  him.  It  is  hard  to  have  got  as  far  as  this,  and  then 
sacrifice  it  all — to  let  that  tricky  Captain  Jackson  triumph 
— and  leave  it  to  fizzle  out.  I  can  see  papa's  side  of  it — only 
he  can't  see  mine.  It's  such  a  handicap,  isn't  it?  I  have  to 
admit  this,  and  this,  and  this — while  he  admits  nothing.  Oh, 
dear,  oh,  dear,  I'm  the  most  miserable  person  in  the  whole 
world!" 

"  God  knows,  I  wish  I  could  help  you,"  said  Kirk. 

She  looked  at  him,  her  eyes  shining  with  tears. 

"  I  know  you  would,"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  gratitude  he 
felt  was  undeserved.  "  You  are  a  great  consolation  to  me. 
I  haven't  anyone  but  you.  You — you  can  understand." 

They  drew  apart  as  they  heard  Mr.  Westb rook's  step 
outside.  He  entered,  looking  very  white  and  perturbed,  and 
threw  himself  wearily  into  a  chair.  He  answered  Vera's 

195 


THE   ADVENTURER 

questioning  glance  in  a  voice  that  he  attempted  to  make  easy 
and  unconcerned. 

"It's  all  right— all  right— my  dear,"  he  said.  "I 
smoothed  him  down.  I  made  him  laugh  at  himself.  He 
won't  murder  anybody  to-night.  He  is  a  great,  big,  honest 
child,  with  all  of  a  child's  resentment  of  chicanery  and  injus- 
tice. But  if  they  go  on  treating  him  like  a  dog  somebody 
will  end  by  getting  bitten." 

Kirk  rose  and  said  he  ought  to  be  going,  but  to  his  sur- 
prise Mr.  Westbrook  demurred,  and  pressed  him,  with  some 
insistence,  to  stay  a  little  longer. 

"  I'd  like  to  show  you  the  plans  of  the  Fortuna"  he 
said.  "  Vera,  get  them  out  of  the  other  tent;  they  are  in 
the  long  cannister  beside  my  bed."  Kirk  sat  down  again, 
complimented,  and  not  a  little  surprised. 

He  was  in  a  state  of  exultation,  his  head  whirling  with 
intoxicating  recollections  that  he  tried  to  piece  together  into 
some  coherency.  He  hardly  knew  how  much  he  had  gained. 
He  was  dizzy  with  wonder,  with  rapture,  with  what  it  all 
implied.  The  touch  of  her  hands — something  of  her  fra- 
grance and  beauty — even  the  caressing  tones  of  her  voice — 
all  came  back  to  him  in  the  retrospect,  and  in  the  tumult 
of  his  senses  he  seemed  to  float  away  in  dreams,  his  only 
formulated  thought  a  passionate  thankfulness.  Mr.  West- 
brook  spoke  to  him,  and  he  spoke  to  Mr.  Westbrook.  What 
about  he  scarcely  knew.  He  saw  the  old  man  through  a 
sort  of  mist,  benignant  and  courteous,  and  he  only  awoke 
to  reality  when  Vera  returned. 

The  cannister  was  opened  and  a  roll  of  blue  prints  was 
taken  from  it.  The  prints  were  large  and  unwieldy  and 
smelled  of  mothballs.  It  was  not  easy  to  spread  them  out, 
and  the  corners  had  to  be  weighed  down  with  books.  The  ta- 
ble was  not  big  enough,  and  so  the  floor  had  to  be  used,  Mr. 

196 


THE  ADVENTURER 

Westbrook  leaning  forward  in  his  chair  while  Kirk  and  Vera 
knelt  at  his  feet.  Their  hands  met  more  than  once,  and 
parted  reluctantly.  Kirk's  interest  in  the  plans  were  genu- 
inely unaffected.  There  was  the  Fortuna  as  she  was  going 
to  be,  and  for  the  first  time  he  appreciated  the  design  as  a 
whole.  Everything  was  carried  out  to  the  last  detail  with 
a  precision  and  foresight  that  delighted  him.  There  was 
something  very  reassuring  to  him  in  the  sight  of  those  plans, 
elevations,  and  working  drawings.  They  embodied  innu- 
merable experiments  and  long  and  careful  calculations.  The 
Fortuna  was  not  the  child  of  a  haphazard  enthusiasm,  built 
conjecturally,  and  with  anything  left  to  chance.  She  had 
been  evolved  by  a  man  of  a  trained  mechanical  mind,  whose 
name  in  itself  was  a  guarantee  of  scientific  perfection.  Kirk 
realized,  more  fully  than  before,  how  intolerable  it  must  be 
to  Westbrook  to  think  of  abandoning  the  enterprise  on  the 
eve  of  its  fruition — to  see  all  his  labor  and  thought  go  for 
nothing,  and  his  ship  derided  as  a  failure  before  it  was  even 
tried.  It  was  too  bold  and  superb  a  conception  to  be  bick- 
ered out  of  existence,  and  he  sympathized  most  heartily  with 
the  old  man's  determination  to  remain  in  Felicidad  even  at 
the  hazard  of  his  life. 

Kirk  was  outspoken  in  his  admiration.  He  had  no  inten- 
tion of  flattering  Westbrook,  and  his  sincerity  was  too  trans- 
parent to  be  questioned.  But  the  old  man  was  very  alive  to 
his  praise,  and  his  manner  thawed  and  grew  increasingly  cor- 
dial as  Kirk  pored  over  the  plans  and  expressed  his  extreme 
satisfaction  with  them.  When  at  last  they  were  rolled  up 
and  put  back  in  the  cannister,  Kirk  could  not  but  feel  the 
advance  he  had  made.  No  fond  mother  is  more  eager  to  have 
her  child  praised  than  an  inventor  the  creation  of  his  mind. 
On  the  engrossing  topic  of  the  Fortuna  one  was  free  to  talk 
to  Mr.  Westbrook  forever.  He  welcomed  criticism  so  that 

197 


THE  ADVENTURER 

he  might  confute  it  with  figures  and  formulas.  He  was  like 
a  boxer  who  tells  the  pupil  to  hit  him — if  he  can!  Such  a 
frail,  gracious,  excited  old  boxer,  with  his  mellow  voice  and 
shaking  forefinger,  so  patient,  so  earnest,  so  triumphant! 

Kirk  shook  hands  and  said  good  night.  Mr.  Westbrook 
got  his  hat,  and  said  that  he  would  come,  too — part  of  the 
way. 

"  I'd  like  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you,"  he  said.  "  I 
may  not  have  another  opportunity.  There  are  several  things, 
Mr.  Kirkpatrick,  that — that — "  He  did  not  finish  the  sen- 
tence. He  seemed  confused  and  at  a  loss  how  to  proceed, 
fumbling  at  the  shawl  Vera  placed  about  his  shoulders.  He 
led  the  way  out  in  silence,  while  Vera,  standing  in  the  shadow 
of  the  threshold,  looked  after  them  both  until  they  disap- 
peared in  the  darkness. 


198 


CHAPTER   XVI 

HERE  are  several  things  I  wish  to  tell  you," 
said  the  old  man,  "  and  the  first  is  that  I 
think  you  are  an  uncommonly  nice  fellow." 
"  Thank  you,"  returned  Kirk,  not  with- 
out misgiving  at  so  strange  and  unexpected 
a  preface. 

"  That  is  a  very  reassuring  fact,"  continued  Westbrook. 
"  It  makes  it  much  easier  for  us  to  come  to  an  under- 
standing." 

Kirk  wondered  what  he  meant,  but  forebore  to  ask. 
"  My  daughter  has  done  a  very  foolish  thing  in  coming 
out  here.  It  was  a  wild  and  impulsive  action,  which  was  to 
some  extent  justified  by  the  news  of  my  illness  reaching  her. 
I  had  not  meant  it  to  reach  her,  and  therefore  I  feel  myself 
partly  to  blame.  I  am  horrified,  less  at  what  she  has  done 
than  at  what  she  has  escaped.  It  was  a  most  reckless  and 
desperate  proceeding,  and  it  makes  my  blood  run  cold  even 
to  think  of  it.  She  has  told  me  a  great  deal  about  yourself — 
about  your  kindness,  your  extreme  consideration,  your  vigi- 
lance and  chivalry.  But,  as  a  man  of  the  world,  probably 
I  appreciate  it  even  more  than  she  does.  You  have  put  me 
under  a  great  obligation.  Mr.  Kirkpatrick,  I  thank  you." 
Kirk  murmured  the  appropriate  things. 
"  This  sense  of  obligation,  this  gratitude  which  I  feel 
most  sincerely,  makes  it  difficult  for  me  to  go  on.  I  hesitate 
to  offend  a  man  for  whom  I  have  so  strong  a  regard.  You 
will  forgive  me  if  I  speak  plainly  ?  " 

199 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  Why,  certainly,"  said  Kirk,  not  a  little  mystified. 
"  Proceed,  by  all  means." 

"  My  daughter  has  placed  herself  in  a  very  ambiguous 
position — a  very  cruel  position,  Mr.  Kirkpatrick,  though, 
of  course,  I  have  kept  the  knowledge  from  her.  It  is  largely 
in  your  hands  to  stop  gossip  and  chatter,  and  in  appealing 
to  you  I  feel  I  am  appealing  to  a  man  of  honor.  By  your 
conduct  she  will  be  judged.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  Well,  no,"  said  Kirk.     "  I  don't.     Frankly,  I  don't." 

"Well,  it  is  just  this,  Mr.  Kirkpatrick.  These  people 
here  will  have  you  both  under  a  microscope.  They  will  mis- 
construe you  and  your  friendship.  Malice  and  envy  are  rife 
here,  as  they're  everywhere.  Does  it  not  suggest  itself  to 
you  to  make  some  sacrifice  for  my  daughter's  sake?  To  so 
govern  yourself  as  to  offset  all  criticism?  " 

"  By  what — by  doing  what?  " 

"  I  mean  by  staying  away  from  us — by  not  calling — by 
losing  yourself  among  the  others  and  tacitly  adopting  their 
attitude.  In  this  way  the  gossip  will  soon  be  silenced,  espe- 
cially if  you  are  reserved  and  careful  in  your  speech.  Is  it 
too  much  to  ask  ?  " 

Kirk's  fairy  castle  was  tumbling  about  his  ears. 

"  Does  Miss  Westbrook  know?  "  he  asked.  "  Is  this  her 
wish?" 

The  old  man  hesitated. 

"  I  desire  to  be  entirely  frank,"  he  said  at  last.  "  Of 
course  she  does  not  know,  nor  do  I  want  her  to.  She  is  a 
highspirited  woman,  with  all  the  courage  and  defiance  of 
one  who  knows  nothing  of  the  world,  and  is  consequently 
ready  to  disregard  its  venom.  She  has  a  great  regard  for 
you.  She  is  artless  enough  to  take  it  for  granted  that  your 
friendship  may  continue.  But,  my  dear  fellow,  it  cannot. 
Surely,  you  can  see  that  for  yourself?  When  this  is  over — 

200 


THE  ADVENTURER 

yes.  But  here,  in  this  hotbed  of  tittle-tattle  and  slander,  it 
is  absolutely  essential — for  her  sake,  Mr.  Kirkpatrick,  for 
her  sake — to  acquiesce  in  what  I  am  telling  you." 

Kirk  sighed. 

"  You  will  lose  nothing  by  it,"  continued  the  old  gentle- 
man significantly.  "  I  am  a  man  of  my  word.  If  this  affair 
breaks  up,  you  need  not  fear  about  your  future.  I  shall  count 
it  a  privilege  to  put  you  in  the  way  of  bettering  yourself. 
When  I  said  gratitude,  I  meant  it." 

"  Does  it  not  occur  to  you  that  her — Miss  Westbrook's — 
feelings  may  be  wounded?  That  she  may  feel  slighted  by 
the  course  you  have  outlined  for  me?  Are  you  not  making 
me  appear  very  rude?  You  are  good  enough  to  put  the 
favor  on  my  side — but  it  is  really  the  other  way  about.  I've 
led  a  rough  life,  Mr.  Westbrook,  and  her  kindness  and  con- 
descension has  meant  a  great  deal  to  me.  I  value  it  exces- 
sively. I  cannot  do  anything  that  would  lose  me  her  good 
opinion." 

"  Do  you  think  that  I  ought  to  tell  her?  " 

"Oh,  you  must!" 

"  Then  the  other  is  agreed?  " 

Kirk  assented  sadly. 

"  I  should  prefer  to  have  it  come  from  me,"  he  said.  "  It 
really  does,  you  know,  for  it  is  I  that  will  suffer.  I  would 
do  anything  for  her,  Mr.  Westbrook — anything  except  to 
seem  to  wound  her.  It  is  a  great  blow  to  me.  I  was  foolish 
enough  to — to — "  He  broke  off.  Westbrook  pretended  not 
to  notice  his  agitation.  The  old  fellow  had  a  pretty  good 
idea  of  how  matters  stood,  and  was  more  than  displeased. 
Had  he  failed  to  carry  his  point  he  had  fully  determined  to 
throw  over  everything  and  return  with  his  daughter  to  Eng- 
land. It  was  a  hateful  alternative,  but  he  felt  that  he  had  no 
other  choice.  This  affair  had  to  be  nipped  in  the  bud,  and 

201 


THE  ADVENTURER 

if  Kirk  had  proved  recalcitrant,  the  Moltke  would  have 
slipped  her  moorings  on  the  morrow  with  the  Westbrooks 
on  board.  Dear  as  the  Fortuna  was  to  the  old  man,  his 
daughter  was  dearer.  He  knew  the  folly  of  temporizing. 

"  I  am  trusting  a  great  deal  to  your  word,"  he  said  at 
last.  "  You  appreciate  that,  I  hope.  You  have  an  honest 
face — an  honest  voice — do  not  let  me  find  myself  mistaken." 

His  tone  took  off  the  edge  of  this  remark.  It  had  a 
deprecatory  quality  that  purged  it  of  offense. 

"  There  is  such  a  thing  as  keeping  the  letter  of  an  agree- 
ment and  violating  the  spirit.  But  I  am  taking  it  for  granted 
that  you're  too  sincere,  and  too  manly  to  be  unworthy  of  my 
confidence." 

"  Yes,  yes,  that's  all  right,"  said  Kirk.  "  You've  con- 
vinced me.  I  was  a  fool  ever  to  think  otherwise.  It's  the 
only  thing  to  do — and,  and — I'll  do  it!  " 

They  shook  hands  under  the  starlight  and  then  sepa- 
rated. Westbrook  slowly  returned  to  his  tent,  not  a  little 
relieved  at  the  success  of  his  endeavors.  Kirk  dejectedly 
sought  his  cot,  and  lay  half  the  night  with  wide-open  eyes, 
in  such  a  turmoil  of  longing  and  wretchedness  that  sleep 
was  out  of  the  question.  He  had  won  and  he  had  lost — and 
now  it  was  all  over.  He  had  chained  himself  with  promises, 
and  the  future  was  black  indeed. 

The  succeeding  days  were  too  uneventful  to  be  described 
in  detail.  Hard  and  exhausting  work,  periodically  relieved. 
Glare,  heat,  clang,  and  sweat — noisy  meals — and  long  silent 
evenings  that  he  preferred  to  pass  alone,  far  out  on  the 
prairie  with  no  companionship  but  the  stars.  He  saw  Vera 
often,  but  had  never  spoken  to  her  since  that  night  in  her 
father's  tent.  Every  day  she  visited  the  ship,  and  would 
smile  at  him  as  she  passed  on  her  rounds  with  her  father. 

202 


THE   ADVENTURER 

It  was  a  tender  smile,  full  of  vague  messages  for  him,  com- 
passionate and  beautiful,  and  mutely  appealing.  She  had 
grown  paler,  more  subdued,  and  her  eyes,  as  they  sought  his, 
possessed  a  curious  pathos  that  haunted  him  long  after  she 
had  gone.  Her  father's  prohibition  had  been  hard  to  bear, 
and  Kirk  felt  a  somber  satisfaction  in  the  thought  that  he 
was  not  the  only  one  to  suffer. 

The  ship  was  progressing  rapidly  toward  completion. 
The  main  deck  was  almost  habitable.  Doors  and  windows 
were  in.  Bunks,  shelves,  tables,  lockers,  racks,  etc.,  were 
taxing  the  energies  of  the  mechanical  staff ;  aluminum  where- 
ever  it  could  be  used,  and  the  only  woods  bamboo  and  hick- 
ory. The  commissary  department,  under  the  direction  of 
Mr.  McCann,  the  paymaster,  was  arranging  for  the  ship's 
equipment,  and  was  accumulating  mountains  of  stores  be- 
side her.  Cabin  matting  was  being  sewed  and  measured, 
curtains  run  off  on  sewing  machines,  lamps  unpacked  and 
installed,  a  dozen  men  were  at  work  on  a  suit  of  spare,  bal- 
loon, silk  sails.  The  upper  deck  was  now  trim  and  smart. 
Four  Westbrook  quick-firers,  using  .303  service  ammunition, 
were  in  position,  two  forward  and  two  aft,  in  steel  shields. 
The  chart  room  below  the  bridge  was  a  miniature  arsenal, 
the  walls  lined  with  Martini-Henrys  and  pasteboard  boxes 
containing  twenty  thousand  pounds  of  ammunition  visible 
through  wire  screens.  The  galley  was  being  finished  and 
painted,  a  light,  white  rail  was  in  process  of  construction 
around  the  ship,  the  companion  ways,  accommodation  lad- 
ders, etc.,  were  receiving  their  finishing  touches.  An  aston- 
ishing number  of  trifling  matters,  however,  had  yet  to  be 
attended  to — multitudinous  refinements  and  conveniences,  all 
exacting  time  and  care — ventilators,  pumps,  a  three-thousand 
candle-power  acetylene  searchlight  in  the  foretop ;  water  butts, 
cooks'  range,  and  boiler;  monkey-rail  for  the  bridge;  hawse 
14  203 


THE   ADVENTURER 

holes ;  a  cat-head  for  the  kedge  anchor ;  waterproof  silk  covers 
to  protect  the  winches ;  hatches ;  a  flagstaff  in  the  stern,  and 
a  jack  forward;  and  with  these  and  other  tasks  came  an 
unending  sandpapering,  varnishing,  priming,  and  painting — 
a  rubbing  and  scraping  and  polishing  that  was  wearisome 
and  tedious  to  the  last  degree. 

But  everyone  was  animated  with  the  thought  that  sailing 
day  was  fast  approaching.  The  Fortuna  was  almost  ready 
for  crew,  freight,  and  passengers.  The  talk  ran  constantly 
on  the  absorbing  theme  of  how  many  men  were  to  be  taken 
and  how  many  left  at  Felicidad.  It  got  about  that  the  num- 
ber to  embark  would  be  about  fifty-five.  Including  the  sick, 
there  were  more  than  twice  as  many  in  camp,  and  there  was 
bound  to  be  a  weeding-out  process  that  caused  no  little 
anxiety  and  commotion.  Nobody  wanted  to  stay  behind. 
St.  Aubyn  managed  to  fool  the  doctor  and  get  back  on  the 
active  list.  He  was  very  shaky  and  ill,  and  had  shivering 
spells  when  his  teeth  would  chatter  like  castanets,  but  with 
indomitable  courage  he  stuck  to  work,  in  the  hope  that  his 
ill  health  would  be  overlooked. 

There  were  many  conjectures  as  to  the  appointment  of 
officers  and  petty  officers.  Everyone  was  in  the  dark  as  to 
the  selection,  and  the  matter  became  one  of  constant  bicker- 
ing. The  men  with  some  sea  knowledge  arrogated  these 
positions  to  themselves,  loudly  declaring  that  it  took  a  sailor 
to  sail  a  ship.  This  was  stoutly  denied,  it  being  contended 
that  the  Fortuna  was  not  a  ship,  that  the  problem  of  her 
management  lay  outside  of  sailorizing — that  nerve  and  cool- 
ness and  resource  were  the  qualities  demanded.  Some  even 
went  the  length  of  declaring  that  salt-water  men  would 
prove  themselves  the  worst  of  all,  and  would  positively 
be  hampered  by  their  previous  training.  It  was  often 
suggested,  with  much  intemperance  of  language,  that  it 

204 


THE   ADVENTURER 

ought  to  be  put  to  the  vote,  and  the  question  of  leaders 
left  to  the  men  who  furnished  the  bone  and  sinew  of  the 
expedition. 

Indeed,  it  did  not  escape  Kirk  that  there  was  a  very  wide- 
spread feeling  of  unrest  and  dissatisfaction  in  the  ranks  of 
the  Fortunas  men.  A  fault-finding  spirit  was  engendered 
by  Jackson's  dictatorial  manners  and  exasperating,  petty 
tyrannies,  and,  as  in  all  mobs,  demagogues  arose  to  organize 
personal  parties  and  fan  the  flames.  The  most  noticeable 
of  these  was  a  fellow  named  Beale,  a  lanky  Australian,  with 
a  most  wonderful  vocabulary  of  vituperation.  But  he  was  a 
past  master  in  his  nefarious  business,  and  got  together  a  very 
substantial  following.  It  was  he  who  suggested  the  vote, 
with  the  evident  intention  of  heading  the  ticket.  This  under- 
current of  politics  and  wire  pulling  was  very  distasteful  to 
Kirk.  He  foresaw  fresh  difficulties  and  fresh  complications. 
When  all,  as  he  knew,  was  trembling  in  the  balance,  it 
seemed  a  shame  to  provoke  further  troubles  that,  so  far  from 
thwarting  Jackson,  were  likely  to  aid  him  in  his  desire  to 
wreck  the  expedition  in  port. 

Kirk  told  this  to  Beale  very  plainly  when  one  day  the 
plausible  Australian  drew  him  to  one  side,  and  attempted  to 
enlist  him  in  the  ranks  of  the  rebels.  Beale  was  no  fool,  in 
spite  of  his  officiousness  and  conceit,  and  Kirk  was  surprised 
at  the  impression  he  managed  to  make  on  him.  In  fact,  Kirk 
turned  the  tables  completely,  and  in  a  quiet  way  lectured 
Beale  severely. 

"  What  do  you  want  to  do  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  Kill  the 
expedition  and  send  us  all  home  with  our  tails  between  our 
legs  ?  That's  a  fine  idea,  isn't  it — because  you  don't  like  the 
coffee,  and  have  discovered  Jackson  to  be  forty  different  kinds 
of  a  wild  ass?  See  here,  Beale,  we  fellows  on  the  lower 
deck  ought  to  pull  together  and  show  a  good  spirit.  It's  to 

205 


THE  ADVENTURER 

our  interest  to  do  it.  What  are  we  to  gain  by  upsetting  the 
apple  cart  ?  " 

"But  don't  you  think  we  ought  to  know  where  we  are 
going  to?  Or  what  we  are  going  /or?  By  George,  Kirk- 
patrick,  we  might  be  a  lot  of  children  on  a  picnic  for  all  they 
tell  us.  Now,  man  to  man,  I  ask  you,  do  you  call  it  fair?  " 

"  That  has  nothing  to  do  with  it." 

"  I  don't  agree  with  you.  That's  flat,  and  you  may  take 
it  or  lump  it !  " 

"  Slow  up,  old  man.  The  boys  all  look  up  to  you,  and  go 
a  good  deal  by  what  you  say.  This  is  a  mighty  critical  mo- 
ment in  our  affairs,  and  it  rests  with  you  more  than  you 
think  to  make  or  mar  the  whole  expedition." 

Beale,  like  all  sea  lawyers,  was  as  susceptible  to  flattery 
as  a  schoolgirl.  Kirk  was  willing  to  play  him  to  the  top  of 
his  bent.  The  fellow  had  a  tremendous  potentiality  for  mis- 
chief, and  Kirk  had  to  cajole  him  into  good  behavior.  The 
occasion  seemed  to  justify  dissimulation. 

"  The  great  thing  is  to  get  started,"  Kirk  continued. 
"  Let's  subordinate  everything  to  that,  old  man.  A  rumpus 
just  now  would  be  fatal.  We  couldn't  spite  Jackson  more 
than  by  acting  like  lambs.  Don't  you  see,  old  boy,  that 
he  would  jump  at  the  chance  of  backing  out — would  welcome 
it!  Mrs.  Hitchcock  would  side  with  him — and  then  where 
would  we  be  ?  " 

"  There's  old  Westbrook,"  said  Beale.  "  Westbrook  and 
Zedtwitz.  Why  shouldn't  they  carry  it  on — the  pair  of 
them?" 

"  It's  the  old  lady's  money,  you  know." 

"  Westbrook  has  barrels  of  his  own." 

"  But  I  doubt  whether  he  would  consent  to  take  over 
the  arrears  of  the  money  already  sunk.  Think  what  all  this 
must  have  cost !  She  would  be  too  vindictive  to  make  him  a 

206 


THE   ADVENTURER 

present  of  it.  The  ship's  her  property,  Beale.  Don't  forget 
that." 

"Oh,  property!"  exclaimed  Beale  contemptuously. 
"  The  deuce — what  do  we  care!  Who's  to  stop  us?  " 

"  You  would  find  Westbrook  would  not  put  himself  in 
such  a  box.  He's  pretty  downhearted  already,  and  the  pros- 
pect of  a  lawsuit  isn't  likely  to  cheer  him  particularly.  I 
know  him  well  enough  to  say  that.  If  the  old  lady  made 
him  a  present  of  the  ship  and  stores,  I  don't  doubt  but  what 
he'd  go  on.  But  mark  my  words,  she'll  take  her  cue  from 
Jackson,  and  will  be  so  baffled  and  angry  and  disappointed 
that  she'll  probably  blow  the  Fortuna  to  pieces  with  dyna- 
mite. That  is,  if  you  don't  use  your  influence — and  I  know 
how  much  you  have — to  get  the  boys  to  hold  back." 

"  There's  something  in  that,"  assented  Beale.  "  But  my 
stars,  Kirk,  it  galls  me  to  have  him  put  in  all  his  little 
pets  to  strut  the  quarter-deck  and  domineer  over  us.  There's 
Haines  now,  that  sore-eyed  son  of  a  sea  cook,  bragging  as 
how  he's  to  be  first  officer.  The  pasty-faced  little  squit,  I'd 
like  to  take  him  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck  and  break  his  back ! 
And  the  other  favorites  and  toadies,  all  promoted  and  brass- 
bound,  while  we'll  have  to  pulley-haul  their  dirty  ropes,  and 
'  sir  '  them,  and  take  their  tomfool  orders !  " 

Kirk  knew  Haines,  and  disliked  him  profoundly.  He 
was  an  ex-yacht  officer  of  the  flunkey  species,  who  aped  the 
supercilious  manners  of  the  class  he  had  served.  A  drawling, 
red-headed  nincompoop,  with  irritating  airs  and  graces. 
Kirk's  face  showed  his  disgust  at  such  a  creature  being  put 
over  them. 

"  You  don't  look  so  well  pleased  yourself,"  exclaimed 
Beale,  with  malignant  satisfaction.  "  That  comes  home  to 
you,  don't  it?  Haines — oh,  my  Aunt  Maria!  No,  sir;  yes, 
sir;  ay,  ay,  sir — and  his  grinning  at  you  in  stinking  lace? 

207 


THE   ADVENTURER 

You  back  me  up,  Kirkpatrick,  and  I'll  see  that  you  and  all 
of  you  get  your  rights.  First,  to  be  let  into  the  secret;  sec- 
ond, to  elect  our  own  officers;  third,  to  put  it  to  them,  fair 
and  square,  man  to  man " 

"  Not  I,"  cried  Kirk,  interrupting  him.  "  I  won't  do 
a  hand's  turn  to  make  trouble  or  interfere.  It's  not  only 
disloyal,  but  it's  bad  policy.  I  care  for  Haines  as  little  as 
you  do,  but  the  only  right  thing  is  to  obey  orders,  and  go 
ahead." 

"Perhaps  you  are  expecting  to  move  aft  yourself?" 
sneered  Beale. 

Kirk  flushed  under  the  insinuation,  but  contrived  to  keep 
his  temper. 

"  I  don't  want  to  come  the  little  saint  over  you,"  he  said. 
"  There's  a  lot  to  criticise  and  complain  of,  but  we'd  be  a 
pack  of  fools  to  engineer  a  smash.  It's  too  high  a  price  to 
pay,  Beale.  For  Heaven's  sake,  let's  make  the  best  of  it,  and 
pull  together." 

The  Australian  ruminated. 

"  Well,  go  slow,  anyhow,"  he  said,  with  unexpected  sub- 
mission. "  That's  the  sense  of  talking  things  over  before- 
hand. They  aren't  all  as  cool  as  you  are,  Kirkpatrick.  But 
you  are  right — you  are  right.  It's  no  good  burning  down 
the  factory  to  spite  the  owners,  is  it !  " 

"  Not  a  bit,"  said  Kirk,  "  and  our  own  jobs,  too." 

"  Wait  till  we  get  the  factory  out  there,"  exclaimed 
Beale,  with  a  sweep  of  his  arm  toward  the  southward. 
"  Then  we'll  have  things  more  our  own  way,  eh,  Kirk?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  returned  Kirk.  "  I'm 
on  the  law  and  order  side  myself.  That's  my  contract — and 
I'm  going  to  live  up  to  it." 

Beale  lifted  his  hat  mockingly. 

"  Ta-ta,"  he  said,  "  you've  made  me  feel  a  better  man 
208 


THE   ADVENTURER 

and  a  sincerer  Christian.  Ah,  there  is  our  true  treasure 
if  we  only  knew  it !  "  He  pointed  to  the  sky  in  clumsy 
parody  of  a  clergyman,  and  then  walked  off,  chuckling  to 
himself. 

But  apparently  he  had  taken  part  of  Kirk's  warning  to 
heart.  There  was  less  whispering  and  muttering  in  corners  ; 
and  the  latter,  in  many  ways,  became  conscious  that  the 
wave  of  dissatisfaction  was  subsiding.  Beale,  at  least,  seemed 
to  drop  out  of  view,  and  his  name  was  more  seldom  men- 
tioned. 

But  Kirk  was  uneasy,  nevertheless,  and  debated  with  him- 
self whether  he  ought  not  to  report  the  conversation  to  West- 
brook.  But  he  hesitated  to  add  this  new  weight  of  trouble 
to  that  already  overburdened  man.  He  determined  that 
later  on  he  would  put  him  on  his  guard.  Forewarned  is 
forearmed. 

During  these  concluding  days  of  the  Fortunas  making 
ready,  there  occurred  another  matter  that  demands  attention. 
Occasionally  in  the  course  of  their  work,  questions  arose  that 
required  a  reference  to  Captain  Jackson.  This  was  the  more 
necessary  as  the  captain  kept  away  and  seldom  visited  the 
ship,  except  in  after  hours.  The  disinclination  of  the  crew 
to  rise  and  stand  at  attention  as  he  passed  was  the  reason 
for  his  keeping  aloof.  He  attached  an  inordinate  value  to 
this  formality,  and  after  repeated  failures  to  enforce  it  with 
man-of-war  rigidity,  he  had  at  length  retired  from  the  con- 
test in  disgust.  There  was  a  general  tendency,  from  Craw- 
shaw  down,  to  shirk  the  task  of  carrying  him  messages  and 
undergoing  his  overbearing  and  insulting  manners.  Kirk, 
as  a  newcomer,  was  slyly  victimized  by  the  little  engineer; 
and,  as  the  former  made  no  objection,  he  gradually  became 
the  go-between  and  messenger  between  the  mechanical  staff 
and  their  majestic  commander.  Often  he  had  to  beard  the 

209 


THE  ADVENTURER 

lion  in  his  den  three  or  four  times  in  the  course  of  the 
same  day. 

Now  Kirk  was  as  little  in  love  with  Jackson  as  with 
anybody,  but  he  was  free  from  the  vanity  of  considering 
himself  degraded  by  obeying  his  superior's  orders.  He  was 
quite  willing  to  salute,  and  say  "  sir,"  and  bring  his  heels 
together — and  found  no  mortification  in  the  act.  Privately, 
he  thought  it  was  silly  to  make  such  mountains  of  fuss  over 
trifles;  but,  as  far  as  he  was  concerned,  he  made  no  demur. 
It  cost  him  no  loss  of  self-respect  to  perform  these  mechanical 
acts.  He  was  a  man  of  the  world,  and  used  to  taking  it  as 
he  found  it.  He  was  there  to  do  what  he  was  told,  and  for 
the  time  being  to  subordinate  himself  to  the  will  of  others. 
Besides  that,  being  a  gentleman,  it  was  natural  for  him  to 
be  polite;  polite  even  to  people  he  did  not  like;  polite  even 
to  Jackson. 

It  all  led  to  the  extraordinary  result  of  the  captain's 
taking  a  fancy  to  him.  His  Majesty  unbent.  His  Majesty, 
accustomed  to  a  great  deal  of  veiled  insolence  and  a  very 
perfunctory  deference,  appreciated  the  genuineness  of  Kirk's 
courtesy.  He  was  insufferably  vain  and  arrogant — but  very 
human.  He  grew  to  like  Kirk's  open  face,  his  agreeable 
voice,  and  his  alert,  respectful  manner.  Here  was  his  man- 
of-war  ideal,  and  as  Kirk  was  the  only  one  of  a  hundred 
and  eighteen  who  in  the  least  way  satisfied  it — except  Haines 
and  a  few  other  particular  pets — the  swollen  old  fellow 
warmed  to  him  mightily.  It  made  Kirk  feel  a  good  deal 
of  a  hypocrite.  But  he  was  human,  too,  and  he  slightly 
modified  some  of  his  first  opinions. 

He  little  realized  to  what  it  was  all  tending.  One  day, 
as  he  stood  at  attention  in  front  of  Jackson's  desk,  the  latter 
laid  his  hand  on  a  closely  written  list  of  names  with  a 
humorous  pretense  of  screening  them  from  view. 

210 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"No  peeking!"  he  exclaimed.  "This  is  a  state 
paper!" 

Kirk  smiled  vaguely.  He  did  not  know  what  the  joke 
was,  but  it  was  discipline  to  look  amused. 

"  You  might  happen  to  see  your  own  name,"  went  on  the 
captain,  pompously  jocular.  "  Oh,  yes — and  in  a  good  place, 
I  can  tell  you.  I  am  making  up  the  list  of  officers,  petty 
officers,  and  leading  seamen !  " 

Kirk's  heart  gave  a  bound.  He  could  tell  by  the  cap- 
tain's air  that  he  had  been  marked  out  for  promotion.  For 
the  first  time  he  appreciated  that  Jackson's  good  will  might 
mean  substantial  favors.  Strange  to  say,  it  had  not  occurred 
to  him  before  that  he  was  a  "  pet." 

"  You're  very  good,  sir,"  he  said.  "  I — I — had  no  antici- 
pation of  this.  I  looked  for  nothing  better  than  not  being 
left  behind." 

"  Kirkpatrick,"  said  the  captain  sententiously,  "  the  man 
who  learns  to  take  orders  is  qualifying  himself  to  give 
them.  When  this  is  made  public  I  fancy  you  will  be 
surprised." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Kirk. 

"  And  very  agreeably  surprised,"  added  the  captain. 

Kirk  kept  this  wonderful  piece  of  intelligence  to  himself. 
It  revived  his  drooping  spirits,  and  consoled  his  lonely  and 
aching  heart.  In  his  dreams  he  read  that  fateful  list,  and 
searched  for  his  name  with  feverish  pertinacity.  He  hardly 
knew  what  to  hope  for.  He  shrank  from  setting  his  ambition 
too  high,  dreading  to  disappoint  himself.  What  he  wanted, 
of  course,  was  to  be  near  Vera.  To  have  the  privilege  of 
addressing  her.  To  share,  however  humbly,  the  life  of  the 
afterguard.  Quartermaster,  gunner,  boatswain,  storekeeper 
— he  ran  over  all  the  possibilities  with  an  anxious  particular- 

211 


THE  ADVENTURER 

ity.  Cook?  No,  thank  Heaven,  Major  Hildebrand  was  sure 
of  that  rating.  Hildebrand  and  Gaston  Le  Fevre.  To  deny 
either  would  cause  a  mutiny.  Doubtless  there  were  other 
positions?  He  racked  his  brains  to  think  what  they  might 
be.  Second  engineer  ?  Crawshaw  would  be  chief,  of  course, 
with  a  seat  in  the  cabin.  Lucky  Crawshaw!  Second  engi- 
neer would  do  capitally.  The  only  trouble  was  that  Hen- 
derson could  not  very  well  be  overlooked.  He  had  not  a 
chance  against  Henderson.  Henderson  was  not  a  "  pet," 
but  still  the  rawboned  Scotchman  was  too  competent  to  be 
disrated. 

At  length  the  time  came  for  all  these  teasing  speculations 
to  be  set  at  rest.  One  blazing  noon,  as  they  were  tramping 
back  to  dinner,  they  were  diverted  by  a  great  paper  poster, 
six  feet  by  four,  that  had  made  an  unexpected  appearance 
in  front  of  the  headquarters  tent.  Here  was  the  list  for 
all  to  read,  in  big  black  letters  an  inch  high.  It  was  in- 
stantly surrounded  by  a  jostling  throng,  pushing  and  shoving 
to  get  close  to  it.  There  was  a  confused  hum  of  voices,  of 
ejaculations,  jeers,  protests,  slaps  on  the  back,  and  growling 
notes  of  disappointment  and  chagrin.  Kirk  elbowed  his 
way  in.  It  was  a  tantalizing  and  terrible  moment.  He  was 
in  the  throes  of  an  overmastering  excitement.  He  dared  not 
ask  what  he  had  been  given.  He  expected  every  instant  for 
some  one  to  tell  him,  "  Say,  Kirk,  you're  one  of  the  quarter- 
masters," or  whatever  it  was.  On  some  of  the  returning 
faces  he  seemed  to  detect  a  savage  resentment  against  him- 
self— envy,  anger,  contempt.  But  perhaps  that  was  only 
fancy.  He  got  closer  and  closer.  The  letters  were  swim- 
ming before  him,  obscured  by  shoulders  and  heads.  What 
if  his  name  was  not  there  at  all?  No,  that  was  incredible 
— had  not  Jackson  said ? 

Ah,  here  it  was ! 

212 


THE   ADVENTURER 

LAND-SHIP    FORTUNA. 

Directing   Council:  MRS.   POULTENEY  HITCHCOCK,   MR. 
EZRA  H.  WESTBROOK,  DR.  C.  VON  ZEDTWITZ. 

Captain, 
HORATIO  H.  B.  JACKSON. 

First  Officer, 
PERCY  HAINES. 
Second  Officer, 

LEWIS    KlRKPATRICK. 

Kirk  got  no  further.  "  Second  officer,  Lewis  Kirkpat- 
rick.  Second  officer,  Lewis  Kirkpatrick"  In  his  wildest 
imagining  he  had  never  soared  so  high.  It  put  him  in  the 
cabin — in  the  aristocracy  of  the  afterguard — made  him  one 
of  those  glorified  beings  who  might  mix  on  terms  of  almost 
equality  with  Vera  Westbrook,  sit  by  her  side,  speak  to 
her  without  reproach,  share  her  radiant  companionship. 
Kirk  was  dazed  with  delight.  He  was  only  aroused  by  the 
sight  of  St.  Aubyn's  thin,  screwed-up,  woebegone  face. 

"  Oh,  chum,"  he  exclaimed,  "  they've  gone  and  left  me 
out!  I'm  not  to  go  at  all.  I've  got  to  stay  in  this  rotten 
hole  and  kick  my  heels  while  you  fellows  sail  away !  " 

Kirk  attempted  to  comfort  him,  but  there  was  not  much 
that  could  be  said.  St.  Aubyn  was  pitiably  upset.  For  days 
he  had  fought  down  his  weakness,  and  by  sheer  grit  had  kept 
out  of  hospital  and  stuck  to  work.  It  had  cost  him  agony  to 
do  so,  but  there  was  heroic  stuff  in  the  fellow,  and  he  had 
been  sustained  by  the  hope  of  being  taken.  He  had  counted 
on  it  with  all  of  a  sick  man's  stubbornness  and  irrationality. 
And  now  the  decree  had  gone  forth,  and  he  was  condemned 
to  remain  behind ! 

213 


THE  ADVENTURER 

Kirk  was  still  trying  to  soften  the  blow,  when  Haines 
came  up  and  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Officers  and  petty  officers  are  to  report  at  the  big  tent 
to-night  at  eight,"  he  said  in  his  drawling,  irritating  voice, 
"  to  greet  the  Presence,  and  kiss  hands.  Ta-ta!  " 


214 


CHAPTER   XVII 

HREE  days  later  the  Fortuna  was  ready  to 
start.  Her  enormous  and  varied  cargo  was 
all  on  board.  Her  water  tanks  were  full. 
Her  accommodations  were  complete  for  the 
fifty-five  human  beings  who  comprised  her 
officers,  passengers,  and  crew.  On  the  upper  deck,  lashed 
securely  in  place,  were  a  pair  of  spare  wheels,  spare  axles, 
and  a  dozen  spare  springs  of  gigantic  proportions — all  by 
way  of  reserve  in  case  of  accident  to  the  trucks  on  which 
the  fabric  of  the  ship  was  supported.  In  addition  to  this 
unwieldy  mass  were  forty  specially  constructed  bamboo 
cages,  compactly  and  powerfully  built,  which  were  intended, 
in  conjunction  with  jacks,  to  be  used  in  making  repairs  to 
the  sustaining  mechanism.  The  weight  of  the  ship  could  be 
thrown  on  these  hollow  dice  while  axles  and  wheels  were 
removed  or  broken  springs  replaced.  Abaft  the  foremast 
were  two  large  automobiles,  similarly  lashed  to  the  deck, 
about  which  there  was  more  conjecture  and  chatter  than 
even  the  mysterious  purpose  of  the  expedition  itself.  They 
were  big  French  cars,  with  an  unusually  high  clearance,  and 
racing  bodies.  They  presented  an  incongruous  sight  in  a 
scene  so  wild  and  strange — so  emphatic  an  emblem  of  civili- 
zation, in  a  landscape  as  savage  and  trackless  as  the  sea. 
What  was  their  purpose?  Was  it  to  be  by  way  of  lifeboats 
in  case  of  need?  The  means  of  getting  news  back  in  the 
event  of  disaster? 

215 


THE  ADVENTURER 

These  perplexing  questions  were  answered  by  a  phrase 
that  was  fast  becoming  a  commonplace. 
"  Well,  we  shall  soon  know  now!  " 

Tuesday,  the  day  set  for  their  departure,  broke  stormy 
and  threatening.  The  barometer  had  been  steadily  going 
down,  and  the  prolonged  spell  of  good  weather  had  come  to 
a  sudden  end.  The  wind  was  whistling  through  the  rigging 
of  the  Fortuna  with  the  strength  of  a  rising  gale,  and  the 
loosened  sails  bellied  and  thundered  in  the  blast.  It  had 
been  intended  to  make  something  of  a  gala  of  that  momentous 
morning — with  speeches,  the  firing  of  salutes,  the  dressing 
of  the  ship  in  flags,  etc.  At  the  right  moment,  amid  cheers 
and  salvos,  she  was  majestically  to  move  away,  dipping  her 
ensign  in  a  stately  farewell  as  she  rolled  south  on  her  perilous 
voyage. 

The  reality,  however,  was  miserably  different.  The  wind 
had  veered  into  the  north  and  was  blowing  great  guns. 
Squall  after  squall  rose  black  to  windward,  and  burst  over 
the  ship  with  torrential  downpours  of  rain.  Everything  was 
wet  and  cold  and  dripping,  and  the  lash  of  the  storm  fell 
mercilessly  on  the  oilskinned  figures  clustered  about  the 
decks.  Felicidad  was  half  under  water,  and  a  dozen  tents 
had  been  blown  down,  with  the  promise  of  more  to  follow. 
To  leeward  there  was  an  incessant  flash  of  sheet  lightning, 
zigzagging  the  horizon  with  streaks  of  fire.  Everything 
was  in  confusion.  Inevitable  things  cropped  up  at  the  last 
moment  to  delay  the  start.  No  one  was  very  sure,  indeed, 
whether  the  attempt  would  be  made  at  all.  The  captain 
sulked  in  his  cabin,  his  dignity  insulted  by  some  unguarded 
word  of  Westbrook's.  Emissaries  of  peace  moved  back  and 
forth,  arguing,  explaining,  smoothing  down.  Kirk,  in  rain- 
coat and  sou-wester,  paced  up  and  down  the  bridge,  waiting; 

216 


THE  ADVENTURER 

impatiently  for  orders.  The  gale  was  in  their  favor,  and  he 
grudged  every  minute  that  held  them  back.  He  was  angered 
beyond  expression  at  the  lack  of  authority,  the  indecision, 
the  precious  time  wasted  in  bickering  and  apologizing. 

Beside  the  ship  was  the  melancholy,  bedraggled  group 
of  those  who  had  to  remain  behind.  Soaked  to  the  skin, 
bunched  together  for  protection,  the  sick  and  ailing  sitting 
on  packing  cases  in  sullen  defiance  of  the  doctor's  orders  to 
remain  in  camp — they  presented  a  picture  of  misery  and 
desolation  not  easily  to  be  described.  In  vain  they  were  told 
to  go  back  and  try  to  keep  their  town  from  blowing  into 
space.  They  listened  apathetically  and  shook  their  heads. 
The  only  luxury  that  remained  to  them  was  disobedience. 
They  stuck  together  like  sheep,  and  passively  defied  the 
speaking  trumpet.  No  amount  of  roaring  could  make  them 
budge.  They  were  determined  to  see  the  last  of  the  For- 
tuna,  and  share  at  least  in  her  departure.  They  were  not 
going  to  be  robbed  of  that,  even  if  Felicidad  were  laid  flat. 
The  general  sentiment  was,  that  for  all  they  cared,  it  might 
blow  to  Hades. 

A  quartermaster  mounted  the  bridge,  bearing  a  paper  in 
his  hand. 

"  Captain's  orders,  sir — you're  to  call  the  roll,  hoist  in 
the  gangway,  and  see  all  clear  forward." 

Kirk  went  forward  and  roused  the  forecastle.  The  men 
came  pouring  up  and  grouped  themselves  about  him,  joined 
by  the  cooks  and  stewards  from  the  ship's  waist. 

"J.  Henshawl" 

"Here!" 

"Thomas  Mackay!" 

"Here!" 

"C.  T.  Hildebrand!" 

"Here!" 

217 


THE  ADVENTURER 

And  so  it  proceeded,  amid  the  rush  and  thunder  of  the 
gale,  the  ship  shaking  under  the  repeated  buffets,  and  the 
men  steadying  themselves  by  the  shrouds  and  backstays.  It 
was  a  stirring  sight — the  storm-tossed  hair,  the  brawny  arms 
folded  across  Herculean  chests,  the  bronzed  and  bearded 
faces,  the  unflinching  eyes — the  universal  look  of  hardihood, 
recklessness,  and  courage.  Here  were  no  boys,  no  gray- 
beards,  no  weaklings.  All  were  tried  and  seasoned  men  in 
the  very  flower  of  their  age — broad-shouldered,  deep-chested, 
muscular,  and  stalwart — the  pick  of  ten  thousand.  No  ship 
afloat  had  ever  carried  such  a  crew.  The  pride  of  leader- 
ship surged  within  Kirk.  He  vowed  that  he  would  show 
himself  worthy  of  his  promotion,  and  earn  the  respect  and 
confidence  of  his  erstwhile  comrades.  He  realized  for  the 
first  time  the  extent  of  the  responsibility  he  had  taken  upon 
himself.  It  rested  with  him  to  show  that  he  could  bear  it. 

The  captain  was  on  the  bridge,  speaking  trumpet  in  hand. 
At  his  right  stood  Haines.  Behind  them,  well  out  of  the 
way,  were  Westbrook,  Mrs.  Hitchcock,  Vera,  McCann,  Dr. 
Phillips,  and  Von  Zedtwitz — six  black,  clinging  figures  in 
mackintoshes.  There  was  expectancy  on  every  face — anx- 
iety, excitement,  foreboding.  At  last  the  Fortuna  was  to  be 
tried,  and  that  under  adverse  and  dangerous  conditions. 
Was  she,  after  all,  a  gigantic  folly,  a  preposterous  concep- 
tion, doomed  to  the  most  mortifying  of  failures?  A  few  min- 
utes would  show.  Theory  and  hope  were  now  to  bear  the 
crucial  test  of  fact. 

"  I  have  to  report  that  the  roll  is  called,  sir,  and  that  all 
hands  answered  their  names." 

"  Very  good,  Mr.  Kirkpatrick.  Get  the  gangway  up, 
and  lash  it." 

"  Very  good,  sir." 

For  the  first  time  Jackson  was  beginning  to  show  to 
218 


THE  ADVENTURER 

advantage.  His  commanding  figure,  his  harsh  and  incisive 
voice,  his  cool,  resourceful  air — all  inspired  confidence,  and 
compelled  some  of  his  bitterest  enemies  to  an  unwilling  ad- 
miration. He  seemed  to  put  by  that  meaner  self — that 
touchy,  cross-grained,  half-hearted  Jackson  they  had  learned 
to  know  and  hate — and  asserted  a  side  of  his  nature  that 
had  hitherto  been  unsuspected.  Standing  there  on  the  bridge, 
conspicuous  and  masterful,  he  dominated  the  situation,  and 
roared  his  orders  with  the  authority  of  a  man  who  had 
trod  the  quarter-deck  for  twenty  years.  His  eyes  were 
everywhere.  He  never  vacillated  for  an  instant.  He  knew 
exactly  what  he  meant  to  do,  and  how  he  meant  to  do  it. 
In  the  all-pervading  confusion  his  undaunted  mien  and  superb 
self-confidence  were  reassuring  in  the  highest  degree.  The 
despised  martinet,  in  the  hour  of  stress,  was  vindicating  his 
right  to  rule,  and  triumphing  over  his  detractors. 

The  Fortuna  lay  in  a  fairly  good  position  for  the  start. 
It  had  not  been  thought  necessary  to  kedge  her  round  to  make 
a  fair  wind  of  the  gale.  It  was  blowing  enough  abaft  the 
beam  to  insure  her  against  capsizing,  and  once  she  was  mov- 
ing she  could  easily  be  set  on  a  better  course.  That  is,  if 
she  did  move.  As  to  this,  nobody  was  very  sure  except  West- 
brook  and  Jackson. 

Seven  men  were  sent  after  the  wheel — six  to  steer,  and 
the  seventh  to  be  in  speaking-tube  communication  with  the 
foretop  and  the  bridge.  Haines  was  dispatched  aloft  with 
a  couple  of  hands  to  con  the  ship.  Kirk  was  engaged  in 
taking  treble  reefs  in  the  foresail  and  lower  fore-topsail — 
no  easy  matter,  as  the  loosened  sails  were  caught  by  the 
gale  and  beat  furiously  as  the  men  struggled  and  clung  to 
them.  The  silk  was  new  and  coarse,  and  the  wet  had  made 
it  like  sheet  steel.  It  was  only  by  taking  advantage  of  every 
lull  that  the  task  was  at  last  accomplished.  The  captain 
15  219 


THE  ADVENTURER 

again  and  again  through  his  speaking  trumpet  bellowed  to 
them  to  make  haste.  The  windward  sky  was  blackening 
with  another  squall,  and  he  was  jumping  to  get  away  before 
it  could  burst. 

"All  ready,  sir!"  yelled  Kirk. 

"Man  the  fore-topsail  halliards!" 

"  Sheet  home!     Hoist  away!  " 

The  sails  shook  and  thundered. 

"Tend  the  braces!  'Vast  hoisting — belay!  Man  the 
jib  halliards!  Clear  away  the  downhaul!  Hoist  away! 
Belay!" 

The  topsail  threatened  to  blow  itself  out  of  the  bolt- 
ropes.  It  seemed  incredible  that  it  could  withstand  the  ter- 
rific strain.  The  Fortuna  did  not  move  an  inch,  but  her 
wheels,  deeply  rutted  in  the  soft  earth,  quivered  with  a  sort  of 
life.  The  vast  fabric  creaked  and  the  backstays  tautened  omi- 
nously. It  was  a  moment  of  suspense,  of  agony.  Something 
had  to  give.  Kirk  held  his  breath  and  waited  for  the  top- 
sail to  split  to  ribbons. 

"Quick  with  the  foresail!  Up  with  her,  Mr.  Kirk- 
patrick!" 

Thirty  men  laid  hold  of  the  throat  and  peak  halliards 
and  hoisted  the  sail  with  a  rush.  The  boom  crashed  to  lee- 
ward. The  sail  reverberated  deafeningly,  drowning  for  a 
time  even  the  gale  itself.  Up,  up  it  went,  with  a  lusty  yeo- 
heave-yeo.  The  throat  halliards  were  belayed.  The  loose 
peak  was  lashing  to  and  fro,  spilling  and  filling  with  a  furi- 
ous noise.  It  was  stubbornly  conquered,  and  got  into  position. 

"Haul  aft  the  foresheet!" 

The  sail  resisted,  giving  way  only  inch  by  inch.  It  car- 
ried the  weight  of  the  storm,  and  was  likely  to  rip  free  and 
fly  away.  At  every  gust  Kirk  thought  to  see  the  last  of  it. 
But  it  was  new  and  stout,  and  held  grimly  to  the  bolt  ropes. 

220 


THE   ADVENTURER 

Then  to  his  amazement  the  deck  beneath  him  began  to 
shake  and  pitch.  By  George,  they  were  moving!  Bump, 
bump,  bump — with  men  slipping  and  staggering  all  about 
him.  But  he  had  no  time  to  look  over  the  weather  rail. 
His  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  captain.  He  steadied  himself 
against  the  mast. 

"  Pull,  you  beggars,  pull,"  he  roared,  as  the  long  queue 
of  men  flopped  over,  and  the  sheet  slackened  in  their  hands. 
He  ran  in  among  them  himself,  and  laid  his  own  weight 
to  the  rope.  Four  or  five  others  jumped  to  help  him.  Every- 
one was  shouting  and  laughing  with  exultation.  He  had  a 
momentary  view  of  the  flat,  wet  prairie  speeding  by — pools 
of  muddy  water — the  diminishing  crowd  behind,  waving 
their  caps. 

"That  will  do,  Mr.  Kirkpatrick!  " 

"  Make  her  fast,  boys !  Now,  you  lubbers,  what  are  you 
doing  with  that  sheet  ?  Here,  like  this !  " 

Then,  at  last,  he  was  at  liberty  to  see  what  was  going  on. 

Reeling  across  the  deck  he  attained  the  shrouds  and 
sprang  up  the  ratlines.  Yes,  indeed,  she  was  moving!  Her 
ponderous  wheels  were  sending  up  a  spray  of  mud  and  earth, 
and  every  time  the  great  hull  dipped  by  the  head  there  was  a 
slish  as  of  some  mighty  automobile  magnified  by  a  thousand. 
Under  that  press  of  sail  the  Fortuna  pounded  on  with  a  wild 
and  lumbering  velocity  that  brought  the  heart  to  the  mouth. 
Lurching,  groaning,  discordantly  protesting  from  every  part 
of  her  fabric,  and  with  a  full  gale  behind  her,  she  flew  on- 
ward with  an  indescribable  jarring  and  bumping  that  seemed 
at  every  instant  to  threaten  her  destruction.  Braced  against 
the  rigging,  holding  on  for  dear  life,  Kirk  had  the  startling 
sensation  of  scudding  over  the  prairie.  As  the  squall  burst 
the  Fortuna  freshened  her  pace  and  dashed  before  it,  amid 
rain  and  lightning,  at  a  speed  so  terrific  that  there  went 

221 


THE  ADVENTURER 

up  a  cry  to  shorten  sail.  But  the  captain,  swaying  on  the 
bridge,  and  searching  the  lee  horizon  ahead  with  his  glass, 
held  on  undismayed. 

Behind  them  were  the  tents  of  Felicidad,  fitfully  seen  and 
half  lost  again  in  the  murk  and  gloom.  The  poor,  deserted 
fellows  had  shrunk  to  mere  specks.  One  of  them  was  waving 
a  tiny  flag  on  a  stick — the  only  attempt  to  celebrate  in  any 
way  the  departure  of  the  Fortuna.  A  pitiful  leavetaking — 
that  widow's  mite  of  bunting,  hardly  more  than  a  striped 
and  gaudy  handkerchief. 

But  the  sight  of  it  struck  a  responsive  chord  in  the  cap- 
tain's bosom.  He  raised  the  speaking  trumpet  to  his  lips. 

"Mr.  Kirkpatrick?" 

"Yes,  sir!" 

"  Break  out  the  ensign  at  the  main !  " 

Kirk  bellowed  a  repetition  of  the  order.  A  quarter- 
master staggered  aft  to  get  the  flag  from  the  chart-room 
rack.  Another  cleared  the  signal  halliards.  The  little  ball 
went  up  swiftly  and  jerkily,  all  eyes  watching  it.  Then,  as 
it  reached  the  truck,  it  was  broken  and  blew  out  its  vivid 
colors  to  the  storm.  It  may  be  that  it  was  not  seen  by  those 
they  were  leaving,  but  the  sight  of  the  stars  and  stripes  to 
the  Fortunes  themselves  was  salutary  and  inspiring.  In  a 
time  of  danger  the  assertion  of  coolness  and  discipline  is 
always  beneficial.  This  trifling  act  gave  new  courage  to  all 
on  board.  If  Jackson  could  bother  about  a  mere  flag  why 
should  they  be  in  such  a  sweat  for  their  lives?  There  was 
no  longer  any  mutinous  outcry  to  shorten  sail.  A  pipe  or 
two  made  its  appearance.  There  was  a  scramble  to  find  shel- 
tered places.  Men  grinned  at  one  another,  and  even  laughed 
outright  as  they  were  slung  hither  and  thither  by  the  violent 
and  sudden  movements  of  the  ship. 

And  all  the  while  she  held  on  her  way,  four  men  strug- 
222 


"Lurching,  groaning,  discordantly  protesting  . 
onward. " 


she  flew 


THE  ADVENTURER 

gling  at  the  wheel,  the  sails  straining  madly,  the  wind  howl- 
ing, the  indefatigable  wheels  racing  and  plunging  as  they 
cut  into  the  sodden  earth  and  tore  a  path  to  the  southward. 
The  ship  yawed  wildly.  Kirk  mounted  halfway  up  the  mast. 
His  first  feeling  of  dread  had  given  way  to  a  strange  elation. 
It  was  magnificent  thus  to  be  borne  along.  Danger  was 
forgotten  in  the  exhilaration,  the  excitement,  the  thrilling 
delight  of  that  mighty  rush  before  the  gale.  Fear  had  dis- 
appeared. Life  seemed  as  nothing  in  the  balance.  Standing 
there  between  earth  and  sky  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  enjoy- 
ment of  a  sublime  and  extraordinary  spectacle.  Below  him 
the  crouching  figures  of  his  companions,  the  careening  decks, 
the  whirl  of  those  steelshod  wheels.  Before  him  the  vast 
emptiness  of  the  plains,  rimmed  only  by  the  sky.  Behind 
him  the  fierce  alternations  of  haze,  gloom,  and  driving 
squalls,  with  rifts  of  wintry  light  and  bleak,  passing  vistas 
of  a  tempestuous  horizon. 

Lightning  forked  and  flashed  with  ear-splitting  detona- 
tions. The  heavens  opened.  The  close-reefed  sails  strained 
furiously  in  the  bolt-ropes  with  a  menacing  note  of  disaster 
— a  hoarse  and  fitful  murmur — as  though  any  moment  they 
might  tear  themselves  to  shreds.  Jackson,  with  the  speaking 
trumpet  to  his  lips,  attempted  in  vain  to  make  himself  heard 
above  the  storm.  Hardly  a  word  could  be  understood.  But 
his  convulsed  face  and  gesticulating  hand  showed  that  some- 
thing was  amiss.  He  gave  the  trumpet  to  one  of  the  men 
clinging  to  the  rail  beside  him,  and  made  unmistakable  ges- 
tures to  take  in  sail. 

Kirk  slipped  down  the  rigging,  and  routed  out  his  men 
from  the  nooks  where  they  had  taken  shelter.  The  captain's 
motions  were  so  peremptory  that  he  judged  it  advisable  to 
let  everything  go  with  a  run,  cost  what  it  might.  He  let 
fly  the  fore-topsail  halliards,  and  allowed  the  sail  to  beat 

223 


THE   ADVENTURER 

and  thunder  while  he  applied  himself  to  getting  down  the 
foresail.  He  put  every  man  he  could  muster  on  the  clew 
rope,  and  soon  had  the  great  sail  on  deck,  where  it  gave  them 
a  lively  tussle  as  it  bellied  and  floundered ;  the  forecastle  men 
hauled  down  and  stowed  the  jib.  The  Fortuna  came  to  a 
gentle  standstill.  Her  deck  became  solid  underfoot,  and 
the  relief  after  the  peculiar,  jarring  movement  that  baffled 
every  attempt  to  walk,  was  indescribably  welcome.  Even 
at  her  smoothest  running  one  could  only  move  in  little  rushes, 
catching  at  a  fresh  support  at  the  instant  of  letting  go  the 
old.  A  crablike  progress,  ludicrous  to  see,  both  irksome  and 
dangerous,  making  the  handling  of  the  ship  excessively  dif- 
ficult. 

Kirk  strode  aft  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  after  first 
clewing  up  the  fore-topsail  with  a  dozen  hands,  and  then 
ordering  them  aloft  to  furl  it. 

The  captain  met  him  at  the  break  of  the  poop. 

"  Very  smartly  done,"  he  said  approvingly. 

"  Has  anything  happened,  sir?  " 

"  No,  it's  only  those  speaking  tubes.  Crawshaw  will 
have  to  do  something  with  them.  Haines  tells  me  that  half 
the  time  he  can't  get  the  helmsmen  to  listen — can't  attract 
their  attention." 

"  Could  you  hear  Mr.  Haines  yourself,  sir?  " 

"  Why,  the  thing  only  gives  a  little  squeak.  He  might 
be  yelling  blue  murder  for  all  I'd  know  about  it.  What  if 
we  ran  into  a  hummock  or  struck  a  gulley !  Haines  up  there 
is  no  more  use  to  me  than  if  he  were  in  a  balloon.  Find 
Crawshaw,  and  send  him  to  me." 

Kirk  turned  away,  only  to  meet  the  little  engineer  him- 
self. He  was  beaming  from  ear  to  ear.  And  this  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  he  looked  half  drowned,  and  the  coat  was 
half  ripped  off  his  back. 

224 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"Isn't  she  splendid!"  he  cried.  "Sails  like  a  witch, 
and  as  smooth  as  a  phaeton.  Hardly  know  that  you  weren't 
on  the  water.  I've  been  logging  her,  and  would  you  believe 
it,  she's  been  doing  seventeen !  " 

The  captain  grimly  brought  him  back  to  earth. 

"  We've  been  running  blindfolded,"  he  said.  "  Heaven 
only  knows  what  we've  escaped!  More  luck  than  good 
guidance,  I  can  tell  you.  See  here,  Crawshaw,  you've  got 
to  fix  those  speaking  tubes  better.  I  insist  on  it.  We  can't 
trust  our  lives  to  a  tin  squeal.  Call  them  up  aft,  and  see 
for  yourself  how  rotten  bad  they  are !  " 

Jackson's  scornful  and  fault-finding  tone  angered  Craw- 
shaw. He  pursed  his  lips  together,  and  without  another 
word  went  over  to  the  apparatus.  In  their  moment  of  tri- 
umph, of  signal  and  assured  success,  it  seemed  hard  to  him 
that  there  should  be  no  general  congratulations,  no  hand- 
shaking, no  exuberant  jubilation  over  the  wonderful  feat  they 
had  already  achieved.  But  the  captain's  sour  face  precluded 
anything  of  the  kind,  and  even  overawed  the  little  party  that 
were  huddled  together  on  the  after  part  of  the  bridge.  Be- 
sides, they  were  cold  and  dazed,  and  only  just  beginning  to 
recover  from  the  frightful  jolting  they  had  undergone. 

"  How  long  will  it  take  you?  "  demanded  the  captain. 

Crawshaw  reflected. 

"I'll  have  to  rig  up  a  sort  of  telephone  harness,"  he  re- 
turned at  length.  "  One  for  a  man  here,  one  for  the  foretop, 
and  another  for  the  wheel.  Say  an  hour.  Yes,  all  of  an 
hour." 

"Mr.  Kirkpatrick?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Tell  the  cook  to  start  his  fire,  and  serve  out  hot  coffee 
and  biscuits  to  all  hands.  And " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

225 


THE  ADVENTURER 

"Get  that  storm  trysail  out  of  the  sail-locker,  bend  it, 
and  be  ready  to  run  it  up !  " 

"  Very  good,  sir." 

"  Oh,  I  say,"  put  in  Crawshaw,  "  I  wish  you'd  tell  Gibbs 
and  Henderson  to  look  over  the  trucks  and  see  how  the 
springs  are  standing  it.  Tell  them  also  to  examine  the  jour- 
nals, and  make  sure  they're  lubricating." 

"  Yes,  you  see  to  that,  too,  Mr.  Kirkpatrick,"  added  the 
captain  with  jealous  authority. 

Kirk  darted  down  the  ladder,  and  hastened  about  giving 
orders.  The  galley  stovepipe  began  to  smoke.  The  storm- 
sail  was  broken  out  and  bent.  Kirk  moved  hither  and  thither, 
doing  energetic  second  mate — routing  out  skulkers,  directing 
gear  to  be  coiled,  tarpaulins  lashed,  and  the  disordered  decks 
straightened  up.  His  eyes  were  everywhere,  and  he  allowed 
nothing  to  escape  him.  He  called  up  the  lamplighter  and 
set  him  to  work.  The  binnacle  lamps  had  not  been  filled, 
nor  any  of  the  companion-way  lanterns.  One  of  the  scuttle 
butts  had  sprung  a  leak.  He  put  a  man  to  caulk  it.  He 
asked  and  obtained  the  captain's  permission  to  run  life  lines 
fore  and  aft,  so  that  when  they  were  again  under  way  the 
men  might  be  able  to  move  the  length  of  the  ship  without 
being  spilled  into  the  scuppers.  He  sent  one  of  the  mechanics 
to  report  on  the  chains  of  the  stearing  gear,  and  find  out 
how  they  were  standing  the  strain  that  had  been  put  upon 
them.  He  overhauled  the  chicken  coops,  gave  them  an 
additional  tarpaulin,  and  had  the  chickens  fed.  Found  a 
fresh  egg,  miraculously  unbroken,  which  he  told  Hildebrand 
to  keep  apart  for  Miss  Westbrook's  breakfast.  Busied  with 
these  and  innumerable  other  details,  the  hour  passed  swiftly 
by,  and  he  was  almost  surprised  when  the  orders  came  down 
to  again  make  sail. 

The  gale  was  still  raging,  but  their  second  start  was 
226 


THE   ADVENTURER 

less  beset  with  terrors  than  the  first.  They  knew  now  for 
certain  what  the  Fortuna  was  capable  of.  The  storm  trysail, 
which  was  sent  up  first  (the  wind  being  now  on  the  port 
quarter),  steadied  the  ship,  and  as  she  gathered  way  relieved 
the  two  other  sails  that  followed.  The  sickening,  jouncing, 
teeth-chattering  motion  recommenced.  The  Fortuna  plunged 
forward  with  an  increasing  acceleration,  bumping  and  quiv- 
ering, lunging,  rolling,  and  sending  up  a  spray  of  clods  and 
dirt.  Once  more  she  was  off,  and  everyone  on  board  braced 
and  settled  himself  for  the  nerve-racking  ordeal  that  had  to 
endure  till  sundown. 

Eight  bells  were  struck. 

Kirk,  gazing  aloft,  perceived  Haines  waving  his  hand  to 
him.  They  had  now  to  change  places.  Kirk,  with  the  port- 
watch,  was  now  to  relieve  the  starboard.  He  sent  his  two 
quartermasters,  together  with  five  other  hands,  to  take  the 
wheel,  two  more  to  the  bridge,  while  he,  with  Phelps  and 
Haggitty,  both  dependable  men  with  some  sea  experience, 
laid  aloft  to  keep  their  watch  in  the  foretop. 

Haines  and  his  two  companions  were  very  glad  to  come 
down.  They  were  wet  to  the  bone,  and  so  chilled  and 
cramped  that  their  hands  could  hardly  hold  to  the  ratlines. 
To  make  matters  worse  they  were  all  more  or  less  seasick 
with  the  violent,  whipping  movement  of  the  mast.  Kirk 
watched  them  descend  with  some  anxiety,  and  breathed  a 
sigh  of  relief  when  they  safely  reached  the  deck.  Phelps  was 
put  into  the  harness  that  Crawshaw  had  improvised.  Kirk 
spoke  through  him. 

"  Quartermaster,  do  you  hear  me  ?  " 

11  Yes,  sir." 

"Quite  plainly?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"What's  your  course?" 

227 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  Sou-sou-east." 

"  Is  she  hard  to  hold?" 

"  Very  difficult,  sir.  Bucks  like  a  broncho.  Jerks  the 
fellows  off  their  pins,  sir." 

"  Shall  I  send  you  two  more  hands?  " 

"  We'd  be  very  glad  to  get  them.  Could  do  with  four, 
I  think,  sir." 

"  All  right— I'll  see  to  it." 

Then  he  called  up  the  bridge. 

"  Hello!     Bridge!     Can  you  hear  me  plainly?" 

"  Every  word,  sir." 

"  Tell  Captain  Jackson  that  the  helmsmen  are  short- 
handed,  and  that  they  need  four  more  hands." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir." 

Kirk  took  up  the  binoculars  that  Haines  had  left  him,  and 
swept  the  horizon. 

From  that  great  altitude  the  limitless,  desolate  plains 
seemed  as  flat  as  a  billiard  board.  It  required  very  close  in- 
spection to  pick  out  hollows  and  inequalities  of  surface.  But 
by  dint  of  searching,  and  aided  by  Haggitty,  whose  eyes  were 
sharper  than  the  glass,  Kirk  gradually  learned  to  detect  bad 
places  and  avoid  them.  Haines  simply  allowed  the  ship  to 
roll  over  everything,  lickety-split,  bump,  bump,  bump,  with 
a  slavish  adherence  to  his  course  as  though  any  deviation 
from  it  were  a  crime.  But  Kirk  tried  to  ease  the  running 
all  he  could.  Under  his  direction  the  vessel  yawed  to  the 
right  and  left,  with  not  only  some  increase  of  speed,  but 
with  a  most  noticeable  improvement  in  her  motion. 

"  Foretop,  there !  " 

"  Ay,  ay,  captain." 

"I'm  going  below,  and  turn  over  the  command  to  the 
second  officer." 

"  Very  good,  sir." 

228 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  You  are  to  call  me  if  the  gale  freshens." 

"  Shall  do  so,  sir." 

"  Is  it  letting  up  at  all  ?  " 

"  No,  sir — seems  not,  sir." 

"  How's  it  to  windward  ?  " 

"  Seems  all  clear,  sir." 

"  Well,  keep  her  going." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir." 

Kirk,  leaning  over  his  dizzy  perch,  watched  the  captain 
disappear.  It  gave  him  a  strange  sense  of  loneliness— of 
paralyzing  helplessness  verging  on  fear.  The  whole  respon- 
sibility of  the  ship  was  now  upon  his  shoulders,  and  he  had 
no  one  to  rely  on  but  himself.  He  took  a  deep  breath  and 
pulled  himself  together.  But  if  command  had  its  terrors,  it 
had  also  its  delights.  Swaying  there  in  the  sky,  with  one 
arm  clasped  about  the  mast,  he  was  thrilled  to  think  that 
his  will  was  now  supreme.  On  his  skill,  judgment,  and 
caution  was  staked  the  safety  of  all.  He  redoubled  his  vigi- 
lance, and  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  unrolling  savannas 
before  him. 

"Starboard  a  little!" 

"  Starboard  it  is,  sir." 

"  Give  her  another  point." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir." 

"Steady!     Meet  her!" 

"  Steady  it  is,  sir." 


229 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

Y  four  o'clock  his  watch  was  over.  It  was 
blowing  as  hard  as  ever,  and  the  bleak,  wild 
day  was  darkening  fast.  But  the  captain's 
orders  were  to  press  her  to  the  utmost,  and 
take  every  advantage  of  the  favoring  gale. 
The  searchlight  was  lit,  and  its  dazzling  rays  were  projected 
far  ahead,  opening  before  them  a  path  of  weird  and  startling 
brilliancy.  Kirk  worked  his  way  along  the  life  lines  to 
the  aftercompanion,  and  staggered  below  to  the  cabin  he 
had  been  allotted  to  share  with  Haines.  He  managed  to 
change  his  clothing,  and  then  all  dressed,  except  for  his 
stockinged  feet,  he  wedged  himself  in  his  bunk.  Sleep,  of 
course,  he  could  not.  The  motion  was  too  racking,  too 
violent  for  even  the  pretense.  But  he  could  close  his  eyes, 
and  alleviate  to  some  degree  the  fatigue  of  nerves  and  body 
so  long  kept  at  tension. 

The  day's  work  was  practically  over,  for,  although  it 
would  fall  to  him  to  stand  the  second  dogwatch  from  six  to 
eight,  and  then  the  middle  anchorwatch  from  midnight  to 
four,  it  would  not  be  under  the  same  arduous  circumstances. 
The  ship — blessed  thought — would  be  still,  and  there  would 
be  no  course  to  watch,  no  sails  to  worry  over,  and,  best  of 
all,  an  end  to  that  cruel  jolting  that  was  the  very  acme  of 
physical  discomfort.  Though  he  had  eaten  little  breakfast 
and  less  lunch,  he  was  not  hungry  at  all.  He  was  too  tired 
to  be  hungry — too  utterly  worn  out. 

After  a  while — a  long  while — he  heard  the  tramp  of 
230 


THE  ADVENTURER 

feet  overhead,  hoarse,  inarticulate  cries,  the  pounding  of 
blocks,  the  fury  of  loosened  sails  thundering  in  the  wind. 
The  heavy,  lurching,  exasperating  movement  abruptly  ceased. 
A  heavenly  peace  took  its  place.  The  wind  was  still  shrilling 
through  the  rigging,  and  blast  after  blast  shook  the  ship, 
but  in  comparison  with  the  miseries  of  the  Fortuna  under 
sail,  the  change  was  astounding.  Kirk  flung  himself  out  at 
full  length,  his  tormented  frame  free  at  last  to  lie  at  ease. 
Oh,  the  satisfaction  of  it!  Oh,  the  glorious  relaxation  of 
weary  muscles !  How  soothing  the  pillow  that  supported  his 
tired  head.  His  eyes  closed.  Respite  had  come  at  last.  The 
long,  long  day  was  over. 

He  was  awakened  a  little  later  by  Haines.  He  sat  up 
and  rubbed  his  sleepy  eyes.  Where  was  he?  He  blinked 
under  the  light  of  Haines's  lantern,  wondering  dully  at  the 
unfamiliarity  of  the  cabin.  Then  his  recollection  returned, 
and  he  jumped  out,  getting  down  on  his  knees  to  search  for 
his  rubber  boots.  Haines  was  divesting  himself  of  his  oil- 
skins, and  was  raining  water  all  over  the  floor.  He  was 
surly  and  uncommunicative,  growling  out  that  it  was  a 
beastly  dirty  night  as  Kirk  asked  him  how  it  was  on  deck. 

Kirk  went  up  the  bridge,  and  added  his  hearty  agreement 
to  the  description.  The  storm  was  blowing  with  unabated 
strength,  with  now  and  then  a  lull  when  rain  would  drown 
the  decks  and  overflow  the  scuppers.  A  black,  wild  night 
indeed,  wet  and  raw,  with  a  deafening  note  of  menace  as 
the  great  gusts  burst  against  the  ship.  The  watch  was 
cowering  for  shelter  under  the  lee  of  deckhouses  and 
freight.  Most  of  them  were  new  to  sea  routine,  and  their 
faces  showed  sullenness  and  resentment  at  being  so  un- 
necessarily exposed  to  the  onslaught  of  the  elements.  Kirk 
was  inclined  to  agree  with  them.  But,  of  course,  it  was 
not  for  him  to  alter  Captain  Jackson's  regulations.  They 

231 


THE  ADVENTURER 

were  in  an  unknown  and  unexplored  country,  roved  over  by 
hostile  Indians,  and  there  was  something  to  be  said  for 
always  having  twenty  men  within  reach  of  the  rifle  racks. 
Though  on  such  a  night  as  that  it  was  inconceivable  that 
anyone  should  care  to  molest  them. 

Pacing  up  and  down  the  bridge,  Kirk  gradually  wore  out 
the  two  hours  of  his  dogwatch.  Eight  bells  were  struck, 
and  he  went  below,  happy  to  think  that  dinner  was  awaiting 
him.  The  main  cabin  was  brightly  lit,  and  in  contrast  with 
the  desolation  he  had  just  quitted,  it  appeared  extraordinarily 
comfortable,  cosy,  and  homelike.  The  long  center  table  had 
been  cleared,  except  for  a  solitary  place  that  had  been  set 
apart  for  him.  At  the  end  an  American  flag  had  been  laid 
crosswise  as  though  in  preparation  for  a  religious  service, 
and  about  it  were  gathered  Jackson,  Westbrook,  Mrs. 
Hitchcock,  and  Dr.  Von  Zedtwitz,  all  with  their  heads 
together,  and  talking  in  low  and  anxious  tones.  In  their 
absorption  they  took  no  notice  of  Kirk,  who  gazed  at  them 
queerly,  beginning  to  understand  that  some  very  disagreeable 
matter  was  under  discussion.  Their  excitement,  their  height- 
ened color,  their  angry  and  emphatic  gestures,  filled  Kirk 
with  vague  misgivings.  Westbrook  held  a  crumpled  paper 
in  his  hand  to  which  he  several  times  referred  with  flashing 
eyes  and  fierce,  ambiguous  whispering. 

In  a  corner  McCann  and  Phillips  were  pretending  to 
play  a  game  of  chess,  but  it  was  evident  that  they  were  cov- 
ertly watching  the  others.  They,  too,  looked  perturbed 
and  ill  at  ease.  Near  them  was  Crawshaw,  hunched  over  a 
book,  in  so  intense  a  preoccupation  that  he  seemed  oblivious 
to  the  general  appearance  of  alarm  and  mystery.  Vera  was 
absent,  and  Kirk's  heart  fell  a  little  as  he  looked  about  for 
her  in  vain. 

The  steward  brought  him  a  plate  of  soup.  Kirk  swal- 
232 


THE  ADVENTURER 

lowed  it  ravenously.  He  had  forgotten  until  then  how  fam- 
ished he  was.  The  soup  was  followed  by  a  curry  of  mutton 
and  some  admirably  cooked  rice.  Hildebrand  had  served  in 
the  Chinese  military  service,  and  in  some  particulars  had  not 
altogether  wasted  his  time  in  the  Heavenly  Kingdom.  He 
had  come  away  with  the  secret  of  preparing  rice,  together 
with  a  claim  against  the  Heavenly  Government  for  an  untold 
number  of  thousands  of  dollars.  Of  the  two  the  former  had 
turned  out  the  more  profitable. 

Kirk  was  busily  getting  away  with  his  curry  when  he 
heard  a  rustle  behind  him.  It  was  Vera,  gliding  to  the  seat 
beside  him.  She  was  very  pale,  and  she  leaned  her  chin  on 
her  hand  as  she  turned  and  looked  at  him.  She  was  smiling, 
and  her  soft  lustrous  eyes  did  not  drop  as  they  met  his  own. 
It  was  Kirk  who  faltered  under  that  tender  scrutiny,  op- 
pressed as  he  often  was,  and  somehow  hurt  within,  by  the 
spell  of  her  beauty.  It  was  ever  a  fresh  revelation,  a  fresh 
torment,  filling  him  with  a  jealous  rapture  that  grudged 
even  the  sight  of  her  to  another. 

"  Have  you  heard  the  news  ?  "  she  asked,  in  a  voice  so 
low  that  it  was  almost  a  whisper. 

"News?    What  news?" 

"There's  trouble  forward." 

"  Trouble " 

"  Hush — not  so  loud.  The  men  have  sent  in  a  round- 
robin.  A  deputation  brought  it  in  at  dinner  time — four  of 
them — that's  what  papa  has  in  his  hand.  Wasn't  it  too 
bad,  when  we  were  all  so  happy,  so  delighted — and  the  whole 
thing  so  tremendously  successful  ?  " 

"  But  I  don't  understand.    What  do  they  want?  " 

"  They  insist  on  knowing  where  we  are  going  to.  If 
they  are  not  told  they  threaten  to  put  back  the  ship.  The 
whole  conspiracy  was  hatched  in  Felicidad  before  we 

233 


THE  ADVENTURER 

started.  Treacherous  of  them,  wasn't  it — and  so  disloyal 
and  underhanded!  And  the  horrid  things  want  to  know 
what  they  are  to  be  paid." 

"  It's  that  fellow  Beale,"  cried  Kirk.  "  He  sounded  me 
himself  only  a  week  ago,  the  rascally  sea  lawyer.  I  might 
have  known  that  he  was  going  to  spring  something  on  us. 
If  I  was  Jackson  I'd  put  him  in  irons,  and  by  George,  if 
they  want  volunteers  to  do  it,  I'll " 

"  There's  more — listen.  They  say  that  Jackson  and  Mr. 
Haines  have  to  resign,  and  that  they  will  elect  their  own 
officers." 

"  Their  own  officers,  eh  ?  Oh,  I  see — Captain  Beale ! 
A  nice  thing  that  would  be!  Well,  I  hope  they  gave  them 
a  stiff  answer." 

"  No,  they  did  not  give  them  anything.  We  can't  fight 
them,  Mr.  Kirkpatrick.  How  can  we?  There  were  thirty- 
seven  names  signed  to  it  in  a  big  round  circle.  Papa  has  asked 
them  to  come  in  and  talk  it  over.  He  is  only  waiting  for 
you  to  finish  your  dinner  to  have  them  all  in  here.  I  don't 
know  what  he  has  decided  to  do.  He  would  not  tell  me 
when  I  asked  him." 

Kirk  pushed  away  his  plate. 

"  I'm  done,"  he  said.  "  I  can't  sit  here  and  eat  with  half 
a  mutiny  on  our  hands.  Steward,  take  away —  Ought  I 
to  go  over  and  speak  to  them  ?  Would  it  be  wrong,  do  you 
think?" 

"  No,  no,  let  them  alone.  They're  having  an  awful 
quarrel.  I  believe  the  captain  is  secretly  pleased  at  the  dead- 
lock. He  has  always  hung  back,  you  know,  and  done  every- 
thing he  could  to  thwart  us.  He  wants  to  do  the  talking, 
but  papa  won't  let  him.  Papa  is  for  compromise  and  reason- 
ableness, and  I  believe  he  suspects  that  Jackson  would  inten- 
tionally try  to  make  things  impossible.  The  old  lady  taunts 

234 


THE   ADVENTURER 

papa  with  being  weak,  and  seems  to  think  all  that's  necessary 
is  for  her  to  get  up  and  give  everybody  a  good  scolding. 
Too  bad,  isn't  it!" 

"  Hadn't  we  better  get  out  of  the  way?  "  said  Kirk.  "  It 
makes  me  fidgety  to  sit  here  and  feel  that  I  am  prolonging  the 
suspense." 

Vera  assented,  and  they  both  rose  and  went  over  to  the 
side  of  the  cabin,  seating  themselves  near  the  chess  players. 
It  was  the  signal  for  the  others  to  arrange  themselves  for- 
mally at  the  head  of  the  table,  a  grim  little  party,  with  the 
light  of  battle  in  their  eyes.  The  steward  was  sent  on  deck 
with  a  message.  He  had  hardly  been  gone  a  minute  before 
the  bell  began  to  toll  on  the  bridge.  It  had  an  alarming, 
apprehensive  sound.  All  talk  and  whispering  ceased.  There 
was  a  general  air  of  inquietude.  Then  the  men  filed  in, 
silently,  as  though  daunted  by  the  brilliancy  of  the  great 
cabin  and  at  their  own  presumption  in  invading  it.  An  in- 
stinctive respect  kept  them  standing.  They  massed  together 
about  the  mainmast,  some  with  folded  arms,  others  with  their 
hands  in  their  pockets,  others  lounging  carelessly  against  the 
bulkheads  with  an  affected  bravado.  A  formidable  crowd, 
filling  nearly  half  the  cabin — brawny,  muscular,  and  defiant. 

Mr.  Westbrook  rose  to  his  feet.  His  manner  was  that 
of  a  director  at  some  shareholders'  meeting — dignified,  calm, 
courteous. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  began,  in  a  deep,  resonant  voice,  "  I 
have  here  a  petition  signed  by  thirty-seven  members  of  this 
expedition.  It  asks  for  some  things  that  are  possible,  and 
others  that  are  impossible.  We  trust  your  good  sense  and 
forbearance  to  hit  on  some  kind  of  a  compromise.  You 
cannot  go  on  without  us — we  cannot  go  on  without  you. 
There  must  be  concessions  on  either  side.  It  is  incon- 
ceivable that  a  scheme  so  boldly  projected,  so  laboriously 
16  235 


THE   ADVENTURER 

carried  out,  so  auspiciously  begun,  should  be  permitted  to 
perish  in  ignominy.  You  wish  to  know  the  object  of  our 
search?  Well,  you  shall  be  told!  " 

There  was  a  hum  of  eager  expectancy.  Heads  craned 
forward.  The  loungers  straightened  up. 

"  But  on  one  condition." 

Westbrook  stopped  and  regarded  them  steadily. 

"  We  will  brook  no  interference  with  the  control  of  this 
vessel.  Captain  Jackson  will  remain  in  command,  Mr. 
Haines  will  remain  first  officer.  We  expect  from  every  man 
of  you  his  individual  word  of  honor  to  obey  them  loyally  and 
unquestioningly.  If  you  are  not  prepared  to  concede  this, 
the  expedition  is  at  an  end,  and  we  shall  return  to  Felicidad 
and  disband." 

"  Hold  on  a  minute!  "  cried  Beale,  pressing  belligerently 
to  the  front,  and  raising  his  hand  for  attention.  "  We  don't 
think  that  Jackson  is  a  fit  and  suitable  person  to  have  charge 
of  us.  Not  only  is  he  no  seaman,  but  his  inflated  and  over- 
bearing ways " 

"  Silence!  "  cried  Westbrook.  "  Captain  Jackson  is  not 
to  be  discussed.  Another  word,  and  I'll  wash  my  hands  of 
the  whole  affair." 

"  But — "  expostulated  Beale. 

"  I'll  leave  the  speaker  to  the  good  sense  of  you  men," 
interrupted  Westbrook  fiercely.  "  Such  language  is  intol- 
erable, and  can  only  make  matters  worse.  This  is  no  time 
for  personalities  and  insults.  You  have  submitted  a  pro- 
posal— well,  we  meet  it  with  a  counter-proposal.  That's  the 
question  for  the  meeting — and  the  only  one." 

Beale  tried  to  speak,  but  was  dragged  back  by  his  com- 
rades, struggling  and  expostulating.  There  were  shouts  of: 
"  Shut  up,  Beale !  "  "  Put  a  stopper  on  him !  "  "  What  Mr. 
Westbrook  says  is  right !  "  The  big  Australian  subsided  as 

236 


THE  ADVENTURER 

he  saw  his  men  turning  against  him,  and  folded  his  arms 
across  his  breast  in  an  aggressive  submission. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  continued  Westbrook.  "  We  shall 
tell  you  everything,  if  in  return  you  pledge  yourselves  to  sup- 
port our  officers  willingly  and  cheerfully.  Yes  or  no,  if  you 
please." 

There  was  a  shout  of  assent  that  swelled  into  cheers. 
The  cabin  rang  with  hurrahs.  Beale,  flushed  and  scowling, 
seemed  alone  in  withholding  his  consent.  He  stirred  un- 
easily on  his  feet,  and  his  lips  tightened  as  though  in  mute 
protest. 

"  Let  us  hear  from  the  nays,"  exclaimed  Westbrook,  fix- 
ing a  withering  glance  on  him.  "  I  have  not  heard  Mr. 
Beale's  decision.  Considering  that  he  is  our  principal  critic 
his  answer  is  important." 

"  I'm  with  the  crowd,"  returned  the  Australian  inso- 
lently. "  If  they  are  ready  to  put  up  with ' 

"  You're  getting  away  from  the  point,"  cried  Westbrook 
interrupting  him.  "  You  mean  that  you  give  your  word  of 
honor  without  any  reservation  whatever,  to  obey  Captain 
Jackson  and  the  other  officers  we  have  appointed?  Is 
that  so?" 

"  It  is,  if  you  carry  out  your  part  of  the  bargain." 

"  We  are  ready  to  do  that  now !  " 

"  All  right  then,"  said  Beale,  in  a  choking  sort  of 
voice. 

11  Then,  gentlemen,  I  shall  call  on  Dr.  Von  Zedtwitz  to 
put  you  in  possession  of  the  facts  that  induced  us  to  embark 
on  this  costly  and  hazardous  undertaking." 

Amid  a  profound  silence,  broken  only  by  the  droning  of 
the  gale  above,  Dr.  Von  Zedtwitz  rose,  and  solemnly  regarded 
the  assembled  crew  of  the  Fortuna — a  bulky,  impressive 
figure;  his  blond  beard  forking  into  tusks;  his  eyes  deep  set 

237 


THE  ADVENTURER 

and  piercing;  his  strong,  harsh  features  suggestive  of  a  mind 
as  rugged  as  his  face. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  began,  "  I  shall  make  no  apology  for 
my  English,  which  is  bad,  nor  for  my  lack  of  descriptive 
power,  which  is,  and  always  has  been — peetiful.  Sufficient 
let  it  be  that  you  may  understand  the  actual  facts  of  this 
extraordinary,  and  never-before-heard-of  enterprise.  Four- 
teen years  ago,  under  instructions  from  the  Imperial  Scien- 
tific Society  of  Heidelberg,  I  had  the  honor  of  guiding  a 
party  from  the  city  of  Quito  into  that  unexplored  region  of 
the  southern  llanos.  After  many  hardships  and  misadven- 
tures, we  were  one  day  set  upon  by  a  band  of  those  savage 
aboriginals  that  had  made  this  country  the  dread  of  the 
explorer,  and  the  despair  of  those  ardent  thirsters  after 
geographical,  anthropological,  and  etymological  knowledge, 
to  whose  efforts,  in  every  clime,  we  owe  so  sincere  a  debt  of 
scientific  gratitude.  They  stripped  us  of  everything,  though 
they  spared  our  lives,  and  treated  us  in  other  ways  not 
unkindly.  Unfortunately,  thinking  to  beguile  them  and 
win  their  friendship  I  exerted  myself  to  amuse  them  with  my 
flute.  It  was  a  fatal  action.  I  succeeded  only  too  well.  My 
companions  they  left,  but  me  they  carried  with  them  away. 
Professors  Engelhardt  and  Blumm  contrived  to  retrace  their 
steps,  and  reach  the  outposts  of  civilization.  But  I,  on  the 
bare  back  of  a  horse,  was  led  by  my  captors  into  the  recesses 
of  their  unchartered  and  unknown  country,  fluting  for  them 
to  dance  when  we  rested  from  the  chase,  or  camped  at  night 
on  the  naked  prairie. 

"  These  nomad  bands,  during  the  dry  season,  roam  at  will 
over  the  vast  stretches  of  the  llanos.  The  multiplication  of 
the  domestic  horse  run  wild,  and  breeding  in  incredible  num- 
bers, affords  the  aboriginal  the  means  of  rapid  locomotion. 
Herds  of  deer,  antelope,  and  cattle  similarly  escaped  from  the 

238 


THE   ADVENTURER 

haciendas  of  the  Guaviare  give  him  the  wherewithal  to  live. 
But  when  it  comes  the  wet  season,  both  man  and  game  seek 
shelter  in  the  hills,  eager  both  to  fly  from  this  veritable 
marsh — miasmic  and  deadly  as  a  campagna  of  inordinate 
extent. 

"  I  was  carried,  in  the  course  of  time,  to  a  place  called 
Cassaquiari,  situated  on  rising  ground  to  the  southeast — at 
the  first  break  of  the  prairie  into  low  hills,  that  by  gradations 
assume  the  character  of  mountains.  Imagine  my  sensations 
to  find  here  the  remains  of  one  of  those  vast  and  mysterious 
cities  that  ante-date  the  Christian  era,  and  were  possibly 
contemporaneous  with  Babylon  and  Tyre.  Yes,  my  friends 
— enormous  buildings  of  an  antique  epoch,  moldering  in 
decay,  overgrown  with  jungle,  in  many  cases  mere,  shapeless 
ruins  lost  to  all  form — the  wreck  of  a  perished  and  forgotten 
civilization.  One  could  not  move  in  those  great  courtyards, 
or  view  those  fronts  of  fantastic  carving  and  embellishment 
without  an  archaeological  thrill — those  colossal  erections  of 
vanished  hands — the  work  of  artists  and  architects  of  no 
mean  order,  who  had  labored  in  the  dim  past  to  raise  what 
was,  perhaps,  the  capital  of  an  empire. 

"  For  three  years  I  was  captive  with  these  savages,  roam- 
ing the  llanos  in  the  dry  season,  returning  periodically  to 
Cassaquiari  in  the  wet — but  busy  always,  as  you  may  be 
sure,  to  turn  my  personal  misfortunes  to  a  scientific  account. 
I  early  recovered  some  of  my  instruments,  a  few  of  my  books, 
my  chronometer  watch.  I  was  enabled  to  make  observa- 
tions thereby,  greatly  to  their  astonishment,  and  my  own 
satisfaction.  I  laid  them  for  safe  keeping  in  the  only  secure 
place  I  had — my  head,  gentlemen.  I  made  systematic  ex- 
ploration of  this  ancient  and  half-buried  city.  I  labored 
persistently,  my  determination  unshaken,  my  curiosity  ever 
on  fire. 

239 


THE  ADVENTURER 

"  There  was  one  building  in  particular,  of  prodigious 
extent,  and  of  notable  and  gloomy  splendor,  on  which  I 
concentrated  the  major  part  of  my  efforts.  Deep  below  in 
the  ground  was  a  labyrinth  of  subterranean  chambers,  empty, 
dark,  and  given  over  to  bats  and  reptiles.  They  had  so 
long  been  exposed  to  the  ravages  of  my  friends,  the  Piapocos, 
that  naught  remained  of  their  primitive  occupancy.  Then 
it  occurred  to  me  to  chart  these  carefully,  in  the  expectation 
that,  being  laid  out  in  a  mathematical  form  of  remarkable 
strictness  and  regularity,  I  might  in  this  manner  recover  the 
architectural  scheme,  and  know  where  to  look  for  other 
chambers  that  possibly  had  been  hidden  and  lost  for  forty 
centuries. 

"  I  was  rewarded  beyond  my  hopes.  This  seeming  laby- 
rinth, when  measured  and  drawn  to  scale,  showed  precision 
and  exactness.  I  had  now  in  my  hand  the  key  to  the  whole ; 
and  there  only  remained  the  almost  insurmountable  difficulty 
of  moving  debris,  and  tunneling  to  where  I  was  confident  of 
striking  the  continuation  of  a  certain  passage.  Ah,  gentle- 
men, it  was  an  undertaking  such  as  few  men  would  have 
ever  attempted!  I  had  no  tools  but  my  hands,  no  helper 
save  a  female.  But  I  was  sustained  by  the  conviction  of 
ultimate  success.  I  was  as  positive  as  though  I  stood  before 
a  door,  and  had  only  to  achieve  its  opening.  So  I  toiled 
and  toiled,  undismayed. 

"  We  broke  through.  It  was  as  I  had  thought,  a  replica 
of  the  side  already  open.  With  torch  in  hand,  I  pene- 
trated those  cavernous  interiors,  and  trod  beneath  my  feet 
the  dust  of  bygone  treasures.  Ranged  about  me  were  great 
chests  that  crumbled  as  I  touched  them;  great  rolls,  pre- 
sumably of  cloth,  that  fell  to  nothingness  under  the  breath 
of  the  outside  air;  enormous  earthenware  jars,  rilling  gal- 
leries a  hundred  and  ten  meters  long,  in  some  of  which  was 

240 


THE  ADVENTURER 

honey  as  sweet  and  palatable  as  any  I  have  ever  tasted.  I 
was  in  an  ancient  storehouse  of  enormous  extent — an  arsenal 
— a  commissariat  depot.  In  one  chamber  I  afterwards 
counted  over  seven  thousand  bronze  axes.  In  another,  I 
calculated  there  could  not  be  less  than  four  hundred  thousand 
arrowheads.  And  so  it  was  with  everything — the  equip- 
ment of  an  Inca's  army  for  thousands,  many  thousands,  of 
men. 

"  Do  not  think  this  examination  was  the  matter  of  an 
hour.  I  was  confronted  with  many  difficulties — poisonous 
gases,  lack  of  illuminating  means — above  all,  what  I  might 
call  my  professional  engagements  that  made  irritating  de- 
mands on  my  time.  Constantly  I  had  to  play  the  flute. 
They  were  insatiable  for  my  humble  efforts.  Once,  to  my 
horror,  a  passing  tribe  attempted  to  purchase  me.  Modesty 
forbids  me  to  tell  you  the  exorbitant  price  that  tempted 
the  cupidity  of  my  captors.  Rifles  and  young  virgins — the 
currency  of  the  llanos — were  offered  to  a  staggering  amount. 
I  was  seated  on  a  rock,  and  made  to  perform  while  the  hag- 
gling went  on.  I  did  so  as  poorly  as  I  could,  but  all  to  no 
effect.  The  bargain  was  clinched,  and  I  was  carried  away. 
But  my  former  friends,  with  a  treachery  I  cannot  too  highly 
commend — with  a  commercial  instinct  quite  in  accordance 
with  the  civilized  traditions  of  to-day — waylaid  us  two 
nights  afterwards;  and  with  the  aid  of  the  rifles  thus  dis- 
honorably obtained,  fusilladed  my  purchasers,  and  recovered 
my  possession.  So  narrow  was  thus  the  margin  by  which  I 
am  free  to  stand  before  you  to-night! 

"  I  resumed  my  explorations.  I  shall  not  weary  you  with 
the  details  of  them.  I  will  come  to  that  extraordinary  mo- 
ment when  I  attained  a  high  and  vaulted  chamber,  and 
found  myself  in  the  actual  strong-room  of  the  citadel.  Here 
were  ingots  of  metal,  compactly  stacked  in  serried  rows  that 

241 


THE  ADVENTURER 

reached  the  ceiling.  I  took  one  up.  Gentlemen,  it  was  a 
bar  of  gold!" 

The  doctor  paused  as  though  to  enjoy  the  sensation  of 
his  announcement.  Nor  was  he  disappointed.  The  company, 
breathless  and  silent,  had  been  standing  like  statues  under 
the  spell  of  a  dawning  comprehension.  Now,  with  a  sudden, 
ungovernable  impulse,  they  broke  into  cheers.  Again  and 
again  there  arose  a  mighty  shout  that  deafened  the  cabin 
and  shook  the  skylights  overhead. 

"  Zeddy,  forever!  Hurrah  for  Zeddy!  Now,  boys,  all 
together,  hip,  hip !  " 

The  uproar  was  quelled  by  the  doctor's  upraised  hand. 

"  To  resume,"  he  said.  "  Yes,  gentlemen,  a  bar  of  gold ! 
Even  with  my  imperfect  means  of  verification,  I  soon  satisfied 
myself  of  its  integrity.  Then  I  set  myself  painstakingly  to 
determine  the  value  of  my  discovery.  It  was  at  best  but  a 
crude  estimate;  but,  with  scientific  conservatism,  I  erred,  if 
at  all,  on  the  side  of  caution.  In  that  vault  there  lies  to-day 
between  four  and  five  hundred  ingots  of  gold  of  a  minimum 
value  of  forty  millions  of  marks,  or,  in  American  money, 
almost  ten  millions  of  dollars ! 

"  In  the  succeeding  year,  beginning  the  fourth  of  my 
captivity,  there  was  a  season  of  such  excessive  drought  that 
we  were  threatened  with  starvation.  Game,  formerly  so 
plentiful,  had  all  but  disappeared.  The  parched  savannas 
were  whitened  with  the  bones  of  those  immense  herds  that 
had  fallen  and  died  in  uncounted  thousands.  We  had  split 
up  into  small  parties,  the  better  to  subsist,  and  some,  includ- 
ing my  own,  boldly  penetrated  to  the  northward,  hoping  to  do 
better  on  the  banks  of  the  rivers.  We  reached  the  Inirida. 
Here  at  last  was  my  opportunity,  desperate  and  full  of  peril 
though  it  was.  One  night  I  fled  and  proceeded  to  follow 
down  the  river.  I  lived  on  what  fish  I  caught,  and  at  night 

242 


THE   ADVENTURER 

slept  in  trees  to  guard  myself  from  tigers.  Ten  days  I  existed 
thus,  with  diminishing  strength  and  many  sad  reflections  on 
my  foolhardiness.  Then,  in  my  last  extremity,  I  was  so 
fortunate  as  to  fall  in  with  a  party  of  Mitua  Indians,  who 
were  descending  the  stream  in  a  canoe.  These  brought  me 
to  San  Fernando  de  Anabapo,  from  whence  in  due  course,  and 
after  many  tedious  delays,  I  returned  to  my  native  Heidel- 
berg. 

"  As  to  the  treasure  I  said  nothing.  I  cherished  dreams 
of  some  day  returning,  and  in  the  intervals  of  my  professorial 
duties  at  Heidelberg — where  I  became  assistant  lecturer  on 
the  prehistoric  races  of  South  America — I  turned  over  many 
projects,  which  one  by  one  I  had  to  give  up  as  unfeasible. 
The  problem  of  transporting  such  a  mass  of  metal  through 
a  hostile,  almost  waterless  desert,  appeared  insurmountable. 
This  colossal  weight,  requiring  four  hundred  pack  horses  to 
bear  it,  and  an  attendant  army  to  defend  it,  defied  every 
endeavor  of  my  imagination.  No  means  suggested  itself  to 
me  by  which  success  might  be  achieved.  Yet  I  said  nothing. 
I  kept  my  secret  buried  in  my  bosom.  But  I  pondered  in- 
cessantly— and  in  vain. 

"  One  day  in  Paris,  at  the  house  of  our  mutual  friend, 
the  justly  celebrated  and  world-famed  Max  Nordau,  I  had 
the  great  honor  and  good  fortune  to  be  presented  to  Mrs. 
Poulteney  Hitchcock.  This  gracious  lady  put  many  ques- 
tions to  me  about  Cassaquiari,  and  betrayed  an  interest  so 
eager,  so  sympathetic,  that  after  repeated  visits  to  her  charm- 
ing salon,  I  at  last  unfolded  to  her  my  perplexities  and 
besought  her  aid. 

"  From  there,  gentlemen,  I  need  go  no  further.  You 
stand  here  to-night  the  living  witnesses  of  what  was  next  to 
happen.  Thanks  to  this  noble  lady's  energy  and  money,  to 
Mr.  Westb rook's  inventive  genius,  and  to  my  own  humble 

243 


THE  ADVENTURER 

though  ardent  cooperation,  this  daring  and  audacious  scheme 
was  successfully  incepted.  It  rests  with  you  to  carry  it  to 
a  triumphant  conclusion,  and,  God  willing,  we  shall  soon  re- 
turn to  Felicidad  like  a  galleon  of  old  Spain,  deep-laden  with 
the  plundered  treasures  of  the  Incas!  " 

He  took  his  seat  amid  the  new  outbursts  of  cheering. 
The  men,  in  their  enthusiasm,  pressed  forward  and  crowded 
about  him — clapping  him  on  the  back,  shaking  his  hands, 
and  lustily  vociferating  their  good  will  with  lungs  of  brass. 
It  was  some  time  before  Westbrook,  beating  his  fist  on  the 
table  for  silence,  was  at  last  able  to  make  his  voice  heard 
above  the  din. 

"  Please,  please,"  he  protested.  "  Gentlemen,  come  to 
order!" 

The  noise  subsided.  The  men  scrambled  back  to  their 
former  positions  about  the  mainmast,  laughing  and  sky- 
larking with  boisterous  good  nature.  They  were  bubbling 
over  with  high  spirits,  and  were  as  unruly  as  a  pack  of 
schoolboys. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  continued  Westbrook,  "  let  us  pro- 
ceed to  financial  details.  Doubtless  you  will  be  interested  in 
the  proposed  division  of  our  profits.  If  Mr.  Allen  would 
kindly  stop  talking  to  Mr.  'Brice,  I  think  my  labors  would 
be  facilitated.  That's  all  right,  Mr.  Allen !  And  those  other 
gentlemen  at  the  back !  Thank  you.  Well,  I  shall  now  out- 
line roughly  what  we  consider  an  equitable  arrangement  for 
all  parties.  First,  there  is  a  royalty  of  five  per  cent  due,  by 
special  arrangement,  to  the  government  of  Venezuela.  Strict- 
ly speaking,  President  Castro  is  not  entitled  to  a  penny, 
as  Cassaquiari  lies  outside  the  Venezuelan  frontiers,  in  a 
debatable  territory  claimed  also  by  Brazil  and  Colombia. 
But  the  Venezuelans  have  shown  us  great  consideration,  and 
have  afforded  us,  besides,  the  free  and  unhampered  passage 

244 


THE   ADVENTURER 

of  our  material.  Second,  the  cost  of  the  expedition  must  be 
charged  against  the  capital  account.  That  is  an  immense 
sum,  not  yet  accurately  defined,  but  it  cannot  be  much  under 
half  a  million  dollars.  Deducting  these  two  items,  we  shall 
give  twenty-five  per  cent  of  the  residue  to  Mrs.  Poulteney 
Hitchcock,  twenty-five  per  cent  to  Dr.  Von  Zedtwitz,  and 
apportion  the  remaining  fifty  per  cent  as  follows:  To  my- 
self, fifty  shares;  to  Captain  Jackson,  fifteen  shares;  to  the 
first  officer,  Mr.  Haines,  and  Mr.  Crawshaw,  chief  engi- 
neer, each  five  shares;  to  the  second  officer,  Mr.  Kirkpatrick, 
three  shares;  Mr.  McCann  and  Dr.  Phillips,  each  three 
shares;  all  petty  officers  one  and  a  half  shares;  to  every  one 
else,  one  share.  We  shall  give  to  the  heirs  of  those  who  have 
died,  or  who  may  die,  before  the  expiration  of  the  expedition, 
one  half  of  the  share  they  would  otherwise  be  credited  with. 
Should  any  officer,  or  petty  officer  be  disrated,  he  will  re- 
ceive the  share  due  to  his  lower  rank.  We  shall  add  to- 
gether the  total  of  the  shares,  and  with  this  number 
divide  the  general  sum  at  our  disposal.  In  the  event  of 
our  safe  return,  I  propose,  before  the  accounts  accurately 
be  worked  out,  to  advance  from  my  private  purse  ten  per 
cent  of  the  amount  approximately  due  to  each  man.  In 
conclusion,  let  me  say  that  I  shall  be  happy  to  answer  any 
questions." 

"  About  them  fellows  in  Felicidad  ?  "  piped  up  Johnny 
Tyrell.  "  What  is  there  in  it  for  them,  mister?  " 

"  Oh,  they  will  share  just  as  we  do!  Did  I  not  make  that 
plain  ?  It  surely  would  not  be  right  to  penalize  them,  and  we 
don't  propose  to  do  so.  Any  other  question?  " 

"May  I  speak?"  said  Beale. 

"  Why,  certainly — go  ahead." 

"  What's  our  protection  that  this  arrangement  is  lived 
up  to?  A  verbal  agreement  don't  count  for  a  row  of  pins. 

245 


THE  ADVENTURER 

Speaking  for  the  lower  deck,  I  think  it  ought  to  be  put  on 
paper,  hard  and  fast." 

"  I  neglected  to  say  that  of  course  this  will  be  done,"  said 
Westbrook,  again  rising  to  his  feet.  "  Mr.  McCann  will 
take  the  matter  in  hand,  and  draw  up  the  whole  thing  in  the 
form  of  a  contract.  Copies  of  this,  each  one  properly  signed 
and  witnessed,  will  be  given  to  every  individual  on  board. 
Nothing  could  be  more  businesslike  than  that,  surely  ?  " 

There  was  a  loud  murmur  of  approval. 

"  Well,  it  depends  how  soon  it  is  done,"  exclaimed  Beale. 
"  Mr.  McCann  has  no  watch  to  keep — why  shouldn't  he  set 
to  to-night  ?  " 

"That's  unreasonable,"  replied  Westbrook.  "It  will 
be  done  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  Speaking  for  the  lower  deck,"  resumed  Beale,  "  I " 

But  Westbrook  angrily  cut  him  short. 

"You're  only  speaking  for  yourself!"  he  cried.  "I 
guess  the  men  will  take  my  word  for  it,  and  show  a  little 
patience.  Am  I  not  right,  gentlemen  ?  " 

He  was  answered  by  a  friendly  roar  that  completely  dis- 
comfited Beale. 

"Anybody  else?"  inquired  Westbrook. 

"  Only  me,"  came  a  voice  at  the  back. 

"  Well,  speak  up,  only  me!" 

A  little  pale  man  elbowed  his  way  to  the  front.  He  was 
an  ex-jockey  named  Weaver,  a  silent,  melancholy  creature, 
who  used  to  snuffle  audibly  at  the  evening  sing-songs  when- 
ever there  were  allusions  to  home  and  foam,  or  the  letter 
that  never  came,  or  such  kindred  tender  subjects. 

"  There's  one  thing  that's  been  overlooked  'ere,"  he  said, 
in  a  high,  squeaking  voice.  "  We  'ave  one  person  on  board 
who  ain't  to  get  nothink,  and  I  think  it's  a  sin  and  a  shame. 
It  would  be  an  everlasting  reflection  on  our  manhood  if  Miss 

246 


THE  ADVENTURER 

Vera  Westbrook  was  left  out.  I  propose  she  share  and  share 
with  us,  and  have  her  pretty  name  down  with  the  rest.  What 
say,  mates  ?  " 

It  was  carried  by  hearty  acclamation. 

"  In  the  capacity  as  mascot  to  the  ship !  "  exclaimed  Von 
Zedtwitz,  his  burly  form  shaking  with  merriment.  "If  the 
presence  of  a  young  and  beautiful  woman  will  not  bring  us 
luck,  I  know  not  (lacking  the  conventional  goat)  how  we 
could  do  better.  Gome,  my  dear,  and  bow  your  acknowl- 
edgment to  these  good  friends  of  yours!  " 

He  went  over  to  Vera,  and  offering  her  his  arm  brought 
her  to  the  head  of  the  table.  Blushing  furiously,  and  yet 
delighted  and  complimented,  she  stood  there  beside  the  stal- 
wart German,  inclining  her  head  to  the  storm  of  applause 
that  greeted  her. 

And  thus  in  harmony  and  good  will  the  great  meeting 
terminated. 

"  But  we  must  keep  an  eye  on  that  fellow  Beale,"  said 
Westbrook. 


247 


CHAPTER   XIX 

T  was  a  bleak  prospect  that  met  their  eyes  the 
next  day.  The  gale  had  blown  itself  half 
out,  but  the  weather  sky  was  still  dark  and 
lowering,  and  over  the  prairie  were  expanses 
of  dirty-yellow  water  that  promised  a  hard 
going  for  the  day.  It  was  a  scene  of  acute  loneliness  and 
desolation,  depressing  to  spirits  not  yet  recovered  from  the 
discomforts  of  the  previous  day.  Everyone  was  tired  and 
sore  and  disinclined  for  another  jolting.  But  the  wind  was 
too  good  to  lose,  and  the  orders  were  to  get  away  promptly 
at  eight  o'clock. 

It  was  drawing  toward  this  hour,  and  the  after  guard 
were  all  assembled  on  the  after  deck  to  view  the  start,  when 
a  seaman  came  aft  and  tipped  his  cap  to  Jackson. 
"  Stowaway  on  board,  sir!  "  he  said,  grinning. 
"Stowaway!"    roared    the    captain.      "What    do    you 
mean?" 

"  He's  just  come  out  of  the  hold,  sir." 
"Send  him  aft  at  once!" 

There  was  a  stir  forward,  and  pretty  well  the  whole 
crew  advanced  in  a  body,  escorting  in  their  midst  the  most 
woe-begone  figure  imaginable.  It  was  St.  Aubyn,  dirty  and 
disheveled,  with  his  monocle  forlornly  stuck  in  his  eye.  But 
weak  as  he  was  he  bore  himself  with  bravado,  and  joined 
shamefacedly  in  the  laughter  that  broke  out  at  the  sight  of 
him. 

"What's  the  meaning  of  this  insubordination,  sir?" 
248 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  Oh,  piffle!  "  returned  St.  Aubyn,  with  the  most  ingrati- 
ating impudence.  "  I  wasn't  going  to  be  left  behind,  cap- 
tain. I  crawled  in  between  some  barrels  and  had  a  pretty 
nasty  time,  I  can  tell  you !  The  filthy  stuff  ran  out  all  over 
me  and  cases  dropped  on  my  head." 

"And  so  we  are  to  be  burdened  with  a  sick  man?  "  ex- 
claimed the  captain.  "  You  are  in  no  state  to  stand  all  this, 
and  you  know  it.  A  nice  fix  you've  got  us  all  into  with 
your  thoughtless  selfishness!  " 

"  Oh,  don't  be  hard  on  me!  "  pleaded  St.  Aubyn.  "  I'm 
not  going  to  be  any  trouble  to  anybody — and — and  I  feel 
better  already." 

His  white,  drawn  face  gave  the  lie  to  his  assertion. 

"  And  what  if  you  die?  "  bellowed  Jackson.  "  I  ask  you 
that,  sir.  I  ask  you  that !  And  what  if  you  die !  " 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right!  "  said  St.  Aubyn.  "  I'll  take  my 
chances.  I  don't  want  any  fuss  made  over  me  even  if  I  do. 
Throw  me  overboard  and  keep  on." 

The  quiet  sincerity  of  his  speech  made  even  the  captain 
relent.  Such  pluck  compelled  admiration. 

"  All  right,  go  forward.    I'll  send  the  doctor  to  you." 

The  poor  fellow  saluted  and  walked  away. 

The  winches  were  both  set  in  action,  relieving  the  men 
of  the  hard  labor  of  hoisting  the  sails.  The  reefs  were  shaken 
out,  and  the  Fortuna  was  soon  slowly  moving  under  both 
fore-topsails  and  the  foresail.  Indeed,  she  acted  so  slug- 
gishly that  the  mainsail  was  next  hoisted,  with  a  considerable 
improvement  of  her  speed.  But  her  wheels  sank  deeply 
into  the  miry  ground,  and  she  toiled  and  floundered  along  at 
'  a  bare  eight  miles  an  hour.  Later  on,  as  the  sun  came  out 
and  the  going  hardened,  she  picked  up  a  little,  but  this  was 
in  turn  offset  by  the  wind  declining.  But  with  less  speed 

249 


THE  ADVENTURER 

there  was  less  motion,  and  the  violent  gyrations  of  the  day 
before  gave  place  to  a  lumbering  unsteadiness  that  was  easier 
on  the  nerves. 

At  six  bells  they  hove  to  to  take  the  sun,  using  an  arti- 
ficial horizon,  and  at  noon  another  stop  gave  them  their  exact 
position.  They  had  run  a  hundred  and  eighty-four  miles,  or, 
as  the  crow  flies,  more  than  half  the  way  to  Cassaquiari — 
a  wonderful  performance,  all  things  considered.  But  at  four 
bells  of  the  afternoon  watch  their  fine  progress  was  suddenly 
cut  short.  A  shallow,  dried-up  watercourse  caused  them  to 
haul  their  wind,  and  skirt  it  for  several  miles,  looking  for 
a  passageway.  At  length,  finding  none  they  dared  to  attempt, 
and  reluctant  to  put  the  Fortuna  about  after  all  this  wasted 
distance,  they  squared  away  again,  and  stopped  short  at  the 
likeliest  looking  place.  Sail  was  taken  in  and  preparations 
made  to  kedge  across.  This  was  a  most  tedious  operation. 
As  there  were  no  rocks  to  make  the  kedge  fast  to,  a  pair  of 
giant  crowbars  had  to  be  driven  into  the  ground  to  afford 
the  necessary  purchase.  To  these  a  wire  cable  was  carried 
from  the  forward  winch,  and  when  all  was  ready,  with  men 
stationed  at  the  brakes  to  guard  the  descent,  the  enormous 
hull  worked  forward  foot  by  foot.  In  this  manner  the  For- 
tuna was  laboriously  drawn  across  the  declivity  and  piloted 
through  the  lumpy  ground  beyond — length  by  length — the 
crowbars  driven  in  and  dug  out  again  eight  separate  times. 
Once  she  stuck  hard  and  fast,  mired  up  to  the  hubs  of  the 
after  wheels,  and  was  only  extricated  by  doubling  up  on  the 
other  winch.  For  those  not  actively  engaged  in  the  task,  it 
was  most  agreeable  to  escape  from  the  confinement  of  the 
ship  and  stroll  about,  watching  the  strange  spectacle.  Mrs. 
Hitchcock  flitted  here  and  there  with  a  camera,  taking  snap- 
shots, and  Vera,  escorted  by  Dr.  Von  Zedtwitz  and  the  pay- 
master— an  animated  little  party  of  three — boldly  walked  on 

250 


THE   ADVENTURER 

in  advance,  with  something  of  the  sensation  of  abandoning 
a  steamer  in  midocean. 

By  half  past  four  they  were  under  sail  again  and  on  their 
course.  With  the  extraordinary  aptitude  of  human  beings 
to  adjust  themselves  to  circumstances,  they  were  beginning 
to  feel  at  home  on  the  Fortuna,  and  in  some  degree  to  make 
themselves  comfortable.  Fear  had  disappeared.  Attempts 
were  made  to  read,  to  play  cards,  to  talk,  to  take  naps.  A 
concertina  started  up  forward.  Clothes  were  hung  out  to 
dry.  Hildebrand,  with  his  sleeves  rolled  up,  was  valiantly 
tackling  a  mountain  of  dough  and  filling  innumerable  little 
tin  coffins  with  what  was  to  become  bread.  Crawshaw,  on 
orders  from  the  captain,  was  getting  the  covers  off  the  auto- 
matic guns  and  having  them  polished  and  oiled.  Order  was 
slowly  emerging  out  of  chaos.  The  routine  of  ship  life  was 
asserting  itself.  There  was  a  noticeable  cheerfulness.  Every- 
body was  "  shaking  down." 

Late  in  the  afternoon  there  was  a  rush  to  the  side  to 
watch  a  herd  of  antelope.  They  were  at  a  considerable  dis- 
tance— a  blurred,  dark  mass,  tailing  out  to  mere  specks — 
and  as  their  ways  diverged  the  Fortuna  soon  lost  them  over 
the  horizon.  Later  still,  the  lookout  reported  smoke  to  the 
southwest — a  significant  reminder  that  they  were  in  a  coun- 
try of  wild  men  as  well  as  of  wild  animals.  It  was  only 
a  thin,  faint  spiral  of  blue,  but  it  caused  a  great  stir  on  the 
Fortuna.  Rifles  and  cartridge  belts  were  served  out  to  the 
watch.  The  hoppers  of  the  machine  guns  were  filled  with 
ammunition.  Each  officer  received  a  revolver  with  instruc- 
tions to  carry  it  constantly,  night  and  day,  strapped  to  his 
waist.  Extreme  vigilance  was  enjoined,  and  at  a  council 
of  war,  held  subsequently  in  the  main  cabin,  a  rough  scheme 
was  drawn  up  for  fighting  the  ship,  should  the  necessity 
unfortunately  arise.  Guns'  crews  were  appointed,  marksmen 
17  251 


THE   ADVENTURER 

were  told  off  to  the  fore  and  maintops,  every  man  on  board 
was  to  know  exactly  what  he  was  to  do,  and  where  he  was 
to  go  at  the  call  to  general  quarters. 

At  this  meeting  something  of  a  clash  took  place  between 
Mr.  Westbrook  and  Dr.  Von  Zedtwitz.  The  latter  turned 
out  to  be  a  regular  fire  eater,  and  the  memory  of  his  three 
years'  captivity  made  him  merciless.  Shoot  to  kill  was  his 
motto,  and  he  derided,  with  clumsy  sarcasm,  Westbrook's 
plea  for  forbearance.  But  the  inventor  stood  his  ground, 
and  insisted  hotly  that  not  a  life  should  be  taken  unless  in 
absolute  self-defense.  Kirk  had  never  seen  the  old  man  so 
roused.  The  order  to  fire  was  only  to  be  given  at  the  last 
extremity.  It  would  be  to  their  everlasting  disgrace,  he 
declared  with  flashing  eyes  and  shaking  hands,  to  massacre 
these  wretched  savages  on  mere  suspicion.  After  a  heated 
debate  in  which  the  doctor,  with  the  dreary  monotony  of 
another  Cato,  kept  reiterating,  "  Mow  dem  down !  Mow 
dem  down !  "  it  was  finally  decided  to  offer  the  enemy  the 
Fontenoy  privilege  of  the  first  shot. 

"  In  that  case  their  blood  will  be  on  their  own  heads," 
said  Westbrook. 

Afterwards,  on  deck,  the  German  drew  Kirk  to  one  side. 

"  My  dear  poy,"  he  said,  "  make  not  the  mistake  of 
underestimating  these  fine  people  Mr.  Westbrook  considers 
so  highly.  I  have  refrained  with  care  from  dwelling  on  their 
numbers  and  ferocity,  lest  our  friends  might  have  hesitated 
at  blunging  into  such  a  hornet's  nest.  But  if  the  pinch  ever 
comes,  remember — (and  here  he  lowered  his  voice) — self- 
preservation  is  the  first  law.  You  have  more  to  lose  than 
any  of  us.  Ach,  I  am  not  blind — there  are  other  prizes  than 
bars  of  gold — Kirgpatrick,  you  listen  to  nothing,  but  open 
on  them  with  everything  you  have.  And  I  say  this  par- 
ticularly to  you,  because " 

252 


THE   ADVENTURER 

The  guttural  voice  sank  still  lower. 
"  Did  you  notice  Jackson's  face  when  we  were  talking 
there  below?  " 

-Why,  I " 

"  Kirgpatrick,  he's  a  coward." 

Thursday,  the  third  day  out,  found  them  becalmed. 
The  gale  had  blown  itself  out,  and  there  was  every  indica- 
tion of  settled  and  seasonable  weather.  The  sky  was  blue 
and  without  a  cloud ;  the  air  sweltering ;  the  sun,  as  it  slowly 
rose  into  the  zenith,  was  as  oppressive  as  a  furnace.  The 
morning  passed  without  even  the  whisper  of  wind.  Under 
rough  awnings,  fore  and  aft,  the  Fortunas  lay  or  sat  in 
lethargic  discontent.  It  was  intolerably  hot;  the  horizon 
shimmered  with  heat;  the  metal  deck  blistered  the  feet  and 
reflected  the  glare  of  the  heavens  above.  The  whole  ship 
seemed  to  glow  like  an  oven.  Toward  half  past  three  a  few 
cat's-paws  rustled  through  the  awnings.  The  Fortuna  began 
to  come  to  life.  Then  a  light  breeze  sprang  up,  fitful  and 
refreshing — the  lightest  of  Trades.  It  gradually  strength- 
ened, encouraged  to  do  so  by  the  sibilant  shi-i-i-i  of  the 
seafaring  contingent.  The  ensign  fluttered  out  bravely  at 
the  main  as  the  captain  mounted  the  bridge.  The  men 
eagerly  sought  their  stations.  The  shattering  grumble  of  the 
winches  was  heard,  and  the  creaking  of  gear  and  blocks.  Sail 
was  made.  Outer  jib  and  flying  jib  were  both  set  for  the 
first  time.  The  square  sails  were  hoisted  and  braced.  The 
great  fore  and  aft  sails  filled  and  bellied.  But  all  to  no 
purpose.  The  Fortuna  would  not  budge  a  foot.  Staysails 
were  run  up,  and  the  club  maintopsail — but  still  she  stuck. 

It  was  Kirk  who  discovered  the  cause.  He  ran  aft  and 
found  that  one  of  the  brakes  was  set.  Hurriedly  releasing 
it  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  feeling  the  ship  begin  to  move. 

253 


THE   ADVENTURER 

But  it  was  at  a  snail's  pace — a  bare  three  miles  an  hour.  In 
lumpy  places  it  dwindled  to  even  less.  The  Fortuna  was 
a  very  poor  sailer  in  light  airs.  She  rolled  along  ponder- 
ously, threatening  again  and  again  to  come  to  an  absolute 
standstill.  By  easing  the  sheets  and  bearing  up  a  point  or 
two  she  was  made  to  pick  up  somewhat,  but  the  gain  thus 
achieved  was  hardly  counterbalanced  by  the  loss  of  direction. 
She  traveled  faster,  but  added  little  to  her  southing.  By 
sundown,  when  the  wind  sank,  the  dead  reckoning  showed 
she  had  made  about  seven  miles — a  pitiful  advance  when 
compared  to  the  actual  amount  of  ground  covered. 

Friday  was  better.  The  wind  was  fresher,  and  she  was 
enabled  to  lie  up  closer  to  it.  During  the  morning  she  aver- 
aged five  knots,  with  occasional  spurts  of  seven  and  eight. 
She  was  pressed  to  the  utmost,  and  was  given  every  stitch 
they  could  raise.  The  Trades  were  almost  due  east,  and 
seldom  veered  more  than  half  a  point  into  the  south.  The 
helmsmen  were  told  to  steal  every  bit  they  could  to  wind- 
ward, and  as  there  was  no  leeway  to  contend  with  every  yard 
counted.  But  it  was  anxious  work,  for  she  was  very  cranky, 
and  had  to  be  carefully  nursed.  She  acted  well  in  stays, 
however,  and  swung  around  smartly  as  the  helm  was  put 
down.  A  good  place  had  always  to  be  chosen  for  this  ma- 
neuver, for  it  would  never  have  done  to  risk  her  in  the  hum- 
mocks. They  were  learning  her  ways  now,  and  could  fore- 
cast her  behavior  with  some  certainty.  The  labor  of  sailing 
her  was  consequently  less  harassing,  though  it  was  still  ardu- 
ous enough. 

Saturday  was  remarkable  for  their  first  sight  of  the 
savages  Dr.  Von  Zedtwitz  feared  so  profoundly.  At  dawn 
the  watch  had  been  alarmed  by  the  tramping  of  horses  be- 
neath the  ship,  and  with  a  couple  of  pistol  shots  had  dis- 
lodged a  band  of  nine  naked  Indians,  who  had  forthwith 

254 


THE  ADVENTURER 

scampered  out  of  range.  But  they  halted  within  a  mile  of 
the  Fortuna,  and  in  fancied  security  boldly  gazed  at  the  mon- 
ster who  had  invaded  their  fastnesses.  They  were  mounted 
on  scrubby  little  horses,  and  two  of  them  carried  rifles, 
which,  however,  they  showed  no  inclination  to  use.  Few 
though  they  were,  there  was  something  formidable  in  the 
sight  of  them.  Their  glistening  bodies,  their  matted  hair, 
their  bows  and  arrows,  their  dark,  sullen  mien — all  were 
disquieting.  The  doctor  declared  they  were  a  patrol  from  a 
larger  body,  and  urged  the  utmost  circumspection.  Indeed, 
if  he  had  had  his  way,  he  would  have  turned  one  of  the 
machine  guns  on  the  nine. 

His  conviction  was  borne  out  by  their  behavior.  As  the 
ship  got  under  way  they  trailed  after  her  persistently,  re- 
fusing to  be  shaken  off.  Whether  at  a  walk,  a  canter,  or  a 
gallop,  they  kept  doggedly  behind  her,  altering  their  pace 
and  their  direction  to  suit  hers.  At  noon,  when  the  wind 
died  down,  they  made  no  attempt  to  come  closer,  but  dis- 
mounted and  huddled  together  on  the  ground.  As  the  breeze 
sprang  up  again  they  resumed  the  pursuit,  tirelessly  following 
the  Fortuna  as  she  tacked  across  the  prairie.  Late  in  the 
afternoon,  when  the  wind  had  again  failed  and  the  Fortuna 
lay  becalmed  for  the  night,  they  circled  around  her  several 
times,  and  then  galloping  away  to  the  southward  finally  dis- 
appeared over  the  horizon. 

"  Mark  my  words,"  said  the  doctor,  "  to-morrow  there 
will  be  drouble!" 

But  his  forebodings  seemed  unlikely  to  be  borne  out. 
The  breaking  day  showed  the  vast  expanse  as  lonely  as 
the  sea.  From  the  crow's  nest  the  searching  glasses  revealed 
not  a  sign  of  life — nothing  but  desolate  immensity,  rimmed 
by  sky.  By  ten  they  were  zigzagging  to  the  south  with  a 
stiffish  breeze,  and  logging  a  good  nine.  There  was  every 

255 


THE   ADVENTURER 

prospect  of  a  splendid  run,  and  a  general  exhilaration  ani- 
mated the  ship.  She  bowled  along  with  a  dip  and  a  swing 
that  made  it  impossible  to  keep  one's  feet  without  support; 
but  little  thought  was  taken  of  such  discomfort,  since  it  was 
always  in  proportion  to  the  speed  attained.  The  harder  she 
was  pressed,  the  bumpier  and  more  violent  was  the  motion. 
It  was  all  the  helmsmen  could  do  to  hold  her  on  her  course, 
and  at  times  the  backlash  of  the  wheels  flung  them  off  their 
feet. 

Five  bells  had  hardly  struck  when  Haines,  who  was 
conning  the  ship  from  the  foretop,  reported :  "  Horsemen  on 
the  port  bow!  " 

This  electrifying  intelligence  caused  a  great  commotion. 
The  men  ran  to  quarters;  the  covers  were  stripped  off  the 
guns;  rifles  were  served  out  from  the  charthouse.  The  cap- 
tain sent  aft  for  Westbrook,  Mrs.  Hitchcock,  Dr.  Von  Zedt- 
witz,  and  Kirk,  and  a  hurried  consultation  was  held  on  the 
bridge.  The  question  was  eagerly  debated  as  to  what  they 
ought  to  do.  It  was  decided  to  hold  on,  and  ascertain  the 
number  of  savages  before  going  about.  In  the  meanwhile, 
Haines  kept  the  speaking  tube  busy. 

"  Raising  them  fast." 

"  They're  separating  into  two  bodies,  as  though  to  inter- 
cept us." 

"  Can't  say  how  many — but  there  must  be  hundreds." 

"  They're  opening  out  into  a  fan." 

"  Yes — rifles — lots  of  them.    Can  see  them  quite  plainly." 

Even  from  the  bridge  a  dim,  dark  line  was  becoming 
visible  in  front.  Then  specks  tumultuously  moving  like  a 
herd  of  wild  animals.  Then  unmistakable  horses  with  naked 
riders  walling  the  horizon. 

Westbrook  sent  word  to  Vera  to  go  below,  and  then 
coolly  descended  the  ladder  to  take  charge  of  the  forward 

256 


THE  ADVENTURER 

port  gun.  His  last  words  to  Jackson  were,  "  Don't  fire  un- 
less you  have  to." 

The  captain  was  looking  very  pale  and  helpless,  and  he 
only  nodded  in  reply.  Mrs.  Hitchcock,  with  an  old  bonnet 
tilted  on  one  side  of  her  head,  was  almost  dancing  with 
excitement,  and  loudly  pooh-poohed  the  notion  of  seeking 
safety.  Von  Zedtwitz,  with  a  very  grim  air,  was  examining 
the  sights  of  a  rifle  that  had  been  handed  up  to  him.  He 
had  a  three  years'  account  to  settle  with  the  Piapocos,  and 
he  wore  a  look  of  somber  satisfaction.  Kirk  was  holding 
to  the  weather  rail,  watching  the  swarming  savages  through 
his  glass.  He  distrusted  Jackson  and  distrusted  Haines,  and 
was  silently  considering  the  situation.  The  danger  steadied 
him,  and  gave  him  an  uplifting  sense  of  responsibility.  At 
any  moment  he  might  become  answerable  for  the  safety  and 
lives  of  all  on  board.  He  could  see  the  men  looking  up  at 
him,  as  men  always  will  when  their  leaders  are  to  be 
tested,  and  he  tried  to  bear  himself  with  resolution  and 
nonchalance. 

The  Fortuna  was  coming  up  hand  over  hand,  as  though 
to  drive  right  through  the  wide  array  before  her.  There 
were  at  least  eight  hundred  horsemen  wheeling  across  her 
track,  and  on  her  port  bow  was  another  mob,  compactly 
massed,  and  plunging  on  their  wild  ponies  as  though  ready 
to  dart  on  her  flank.  Cries,  yells,  and  the  pounding  of  hoofs 
vied  with  the  clatter  and  bang  of  the  enormous  hull  as  she 
swept  on  with  an  earthshaking  rush.  Kirk  felt  his  hair  rising 
beneath  his  cap ;  he  seemed  to  have  forgotten  how  to  breathe  ; 
it  was  frightful  to  think  of  plunging  through  all  that  flesh 
and  blood.  As  in  all  moments  of  excessive  tension,  the  eye 
took  in  some  pictures  with  an  extraordinary  vividness — 
Westbrook,  with  his  white  hair  all  awry,  crouching  over  his 
gun — the  captain's  face,  withering  with  terror — a  couple  of 

257 


THE   ADVENTURER 

men  scrambling  for  cartridges  that  had  spilled  from  a  canvas 
bucket. 

The  savages  scattered  pell-mell  to  open  a  lane  for  the 
Fortuna  to  pass.  The  ship  drove  through  a  sea  of  rearing 
horses  and  naked,  shrieking  humanity — an  avalanche  of  can- 
vas and  metal,  bristling  with  death.  There  was  a  flit-flit  of 
little  arrows.  Kirk,  with  wonder,  saw  some  sticking  in  the 
mast.  He  pulled  one  out  of  his  coat.  He  felt  the  whiz  of 
others  past  his  ears.  The  man  beside  him  fell  on  his  knees, 
and  then  rolled  over  twitching  convulsively.  But  there  was 
no  time  to  think  of  him.  On  either  hand  the  savages  in 
hundreds  were  galloping  beside  the  ship,  and  straining  to 
keep  pace  with  her.  Patter,  patter,  patter,  came  the  little 
arrows.  Then  shots,  fewer,  but  more  deadly,  the  fellows 
rising  in  their  saddles  and  aiming  with  deliberation.  Till 
then  the  Fortuna  had  made  no  reply,  but  now  Westbrook's 
gun  opened  with  an  earsplitting  crash.  The  others  followed, 
belching  flame.  The  deck  shook  with  reverberations,  and 
an  acrid  smell  of  powder  filled  the  air.  Fore  and  aft,  every 
rifle  was  cracking  furiously.  It  seemed  as  though  nothing 
human  could  long  withstand  such  a  fusillade,  and  Kirk,  look- 
ing back,  saw  their  wake  dotted  with  horses  and  men  lying 
limp  and  bloody  on  the  receding  ground.  But  yet  there  was 
no  sign  of  the  pursuit  being  abandoned.  The  torn  ranks 
filled  up.  The  great  horde  clung  on  like  wolves  to  either 
flank,  and  volleyed  arrows  and  bullets  with  ferocity. 

Jackson  stood  there  as  though  he  were  made  of  stone. 
He  did  not  answer  when  Kirk  spoke  to  him.  He  did  not 
even  turn  his  head.  He  gazed  straight  before  him  into 
vacancy,  and  nothing  could  rouse  him  from  a  sort  of  pa- 
ralysis of  fear.  Kirk  snatched  the  speaking  trumpet  from  his 
unresisting  hand.  The  men  were  firing  wildly,  and,  except 
for  Westbrook's  gun,  and  some  of  the  sharpshooters  like  Von 

258 


THE   ADVENTURER 

Zedtwitz  and  Bob  St.  Aubyn,  a  terrific  amount  of  ammuni- 
tion was  being  wasted. 

"  Starboard  gun,  ahoy!    Starboard  gun,  there!  " 

"Ay,  ay,  sir!" 

"Lower,  lower!    Aim  lower!     Lower,  I  tell  you!" 

"  What's  the  matter  down  there,  Beale  ?  Why  aren't 
you  firing?  Port  gun  aft,  why  aren't  you  firing?" 

A  man  came  running  up  to  say  it  was  jammed. 

"  Then  pass  the  word  for  Crawshaw.  Get  Crawshaw ! 
Hold  on!" 

"Yes,  sir!" 

"  Stop  that  jackass  in  the  red  shirt  from  shooting  in  the 
air." 

"Very  good,  sir!" 

It  was  hard  to  make  the  speaking  trumpet  heard  above 
the  din.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  confusion — of  purpose- 
less running  to  and  fro — of  conflicting  orders  from  those 
who  had  no  right  to  give  any.  For  a  few  minutes  the  ship 
was  utterly  out  of  hand.  But  Kirk  rapidly  brought  back 
some  degree  of  control.  Above  the  pandemonium  his  reso- 
nant voice,  magnified  by  the  speaking  trumpet,  thundered 
forth  his  orders.  He  sent  three  men  to  the  wheel  to  replace 
those  that  had  fallen.  He  eased  the  sheets  to  try  and  out- 
distance the  pursuit,  and  finding  that  of  no  avail,  ran  up  the 
club  topsail  and  a  couple  of  other  kites.  He  ordered  the 
wounded  and  dying  to  be  carried  amidships,  where  the  doctor 
could  best  serve  them.  He  suppressed  much  random  firing 
from  those  who  did  not  know  one  end  of  a  rifle  from  an- 
other, and  whose  crazy  antics  were  a  menace  to  every  soul 
on  board. 

Crowded  with  every  yard  she  could  carry  the  Fortuna 
gradually  forged  ahead  of  the  foam-flecked  horses  and  their 
panting  riders.  The  few  that  managed  to  keep  her  pace  were 

259 


THE   ADVENTURER 

shot  down.  The  rest,  straggling  out  for  a  mile,  were  little 
by  little  dropped  behind.  Then,  altogether  losing  heart,  they 
drew  rein  and  sullenly  watched  their  prey  escape. 

But  Kirk's  elation  was  shortlived.  Amid  the  cheering 
and  congratulations  that  celebrated  their  deliverance  his  face 
alone  failed  to  reflect  the  universal  joy.  He  knew  they 
were  soon  bound  to  lose  the  wind,  and  even  by  squaring  away 
to  the  westward,  the  best  that  could  be  hoped  for  was  a  run 
of  a  dozen  miles.  The  battle  would  have  to  be  begun  again 
under  circumstances  a  thousandfold  more  disadvantageous 
than  before.  Under  sail  the  Fortuna  was  a  formidable  an- 
tagonist, but  becalmed  what  was  she  but  a  rather  rickety 
fort?  The  Indians  had  not  been  beaten.  In  spite  of  their 
losses  they  had  hung  on  with  desperation,  and  were  as  full 
of  fight  as  ever.  In  a  couple  of  hours  the  ship,  stationary 
as  a  rock,  would  be  again  attacked.  With  no  wind  to  move 
her  she  would  have  to  bear  a  terrific  onslaught  with  every 
point  in  the  enemy's  favor.  Machine  guns  and  all,  she 
would  be  hard  put  to  it,  with  less  than  fifty  men,  to  with- 
stand a  horde  of  nigh  a  thousand.  No,  the  wind  was  the 
biggest  weapon  they  possessed,  and  the  poorest  use  they  could 
put  it  to  was  to  fly. 

"  Stand  by  to  go  about!  "  shouted  Kirk. 

The  cheering  ceased.  Men  stared  at  him  with  open 
mouths,  unable  to  believe  that  he  could  mean  to  renew  the 
combat.  Such  apparent  foolhardiness  struck  them  dumb. 

"  All  hands  to  your  stations!  " 

His  voice  was  so  decisive  that  after  an  instant  of  hesita- 
tion there  was  a  general  movement  to  obey.  The  note  of 
resolution  and  self-confidence  was  irresistible. 

"Ready  about!" 

"  Round  in  the  weather  braces.  Flatten  in  the  main- 
sheet  there!  Tend  the  jib  sheets!  " 

260 


THE  ADVENTURER 

"  Helms  a-lee!" 

The  great  hull  swung  round  with  a  bump  and  a  crash, 
and  paid  off  on  the  other  tack. 

"  Flatten  in  the  head  sheets.  Lively,  boys,  lively !  Belay 
the  lee  braces — haul  taut  the  weather  braces,  trim  in  the 
main  sheet !  " 

"  All  hands  to  quarters!  " 

The  enemy  was  about  half  a  mile  distant,  and  it  could  be 
seen  that  this  unexpected  maneuver  of  the  Fortuna  had 
thrown  them  into  confusion.  A  hoarse,  low  humming  rose 
from  their  midst,  and  for  a  moment  Kirk  hoped  that  this 
was  a  signal  for  their  flight.  But  on  the  contrary,  they  stood 
their  ground,  and  opposed  a  defiant  front  to  the  oncoming 
ship.  Kirk  aimed  her  at  the  place  where  they  seemed  thickest, 
at  the  same  time  ordering  his  men  to  hold  their  fire  till  every 
shot  could  be  made  to  tell. 

Tense  and  breathless  the  gun  crews  stood  ready  to  open 
with  their  hail  of  death.  A  file  of  men  were  passing  up 
ammunition  from  below — the  supply  in  the  chart  room  be- 
ginning to  run  short.  Here  and  there  the  sharpshooters, 
braced  against  the  rigging,  were  covering  living  targets  with 
their  rifles.  Such  of  the  wounded  as  had  the  strength  to  do 
so  were  standing  up,  holding  to  what  they  could.  One, 
too  weak  even  for  this,  managed  to  roll  himself  to  the  scup- 
pers, and  was  seeing  what  he  could  through  a  hawse  hole. 
Lurching  and  plunging,  her  great  wheels  spinning  like  those 
of  a  locomotive,  the  Fortuna  sped  forward  with  ponderous 
velocity.  The  savages  scattered  to  open  a  way  for  her  as 
they  had  done  before,  but  this  time  Kirk  did  not  shrink  from 
harming  them.  Within  fifty  feet  of  the  lane  he  put  up  his 
helm,  and  sent  the  Fortuna  crashing  through  a  mob  of  men 
and  horses.  With  her  enormous  headway  she  ground 
through  them  with  unimpaired  speed,  jolting  violently  and 

261 


THE  ADVENTURER 

reddening  her  wheels  with  blood.  Even  as  she  did  so,  the 
guns  opened  with  murderous  uproar,  and  from  stem  to 
stern  every  rifle  was  spitting  flame. 

But  in  the  instant  of  her  passage  arrows  flew  thick  and 
fast,  and  from  a  hundred  guns  or  more  repeated  volleys  swept 
over  her  deck.  St.  Aubyn  fell,  shot  through  the  neck.  A 
couple  of  men  in  the  forerigging  dropped  like  sacks  of  coal. 
One  poor  fellow  ran  screaming  the  length  of  the  ship,  hold- 
ing his  shattered  jaw  to  his  face. 

With  her  guns  detonating,  her  crew  cheering,  her  cord- 
age groaning  and  creaking,  the  Fortuna  tore  through  the 
screeching,  yelling  throng  and  raced  into  the  comparative 
security  of  the  prairie  beyond.  Many  still  clung  to  her 
flanks  like  lapping  dogs,  but  the  main  body,  disorganized  and 
appalled,  made  no  attempt  to  follow,  shrinking  together  in 
a  panicstricken  crowd.  When  Kirk  again  went  about,  and 
flung  the  Fortuna  at  their  very  center,  they  broke  and  fled. 
At  first,  even  in  flight,  they  kept  some  cohesion.  But  as  the 
ship  plowed  through  their  frenzied  ranks,  her  huge  wheels 
striking  down  dozens  at  a  time  and  crushing  them  into 
unrecognizable  fragments  of  flesh,  the  survivors  scattered  in 
every  direction  like  autumn  leaves  in  the  wind. 

Thinking  that  the  slaughter  had  gone  far  enough,  Kirk 
gave  the  order  to  cease  firing,  and  applied  himself  to  break- 
ing up  the  smaller  parties,  that  in  tens  and  twenties  still 
kept  together.  Circling  like  some  monstrous  vulture,  he  in 
turn  cut  these  off  and  scattered  them  to  the  four  winds,  till 
the  savanna,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  was  dotted  with 
escaping  figures.  In  these  maneuvers  he  refrained  as  far 
as  he  could  from  taking  more  lives,  being  content  to  harass 
and  terrorize  the  fugitives  till  he  was  satisfied  they  were 
utterly  routed. 

Then,  setting  the  vessel  once  more  on  her  course,  he 
262 


THE   ADVENTURER 

thankfully  drew  away  from  such  scenes  of  carnage,  and 
let  them  sink  behind  him  in  the  blue  of  the  horizon.  Un- 
nerved and  shaken  by  the  terrible  ordeal,  it  was  with  pro- 
found relief  that  he  saw  the  battleground  fade  and  disap- 
pear. Though  they  might  now  have  counted  themselves 
secure  from  molestation,  and  could  have  camped  in  security 
where  they  were,  there  was  in  every  heart  on  board  a  con- 
suming eagerness  to  escape  to  another  air. 

The  captain,  whose  corpselike  face  had  never  moved  a 
muscle  throughout  the  action,  and  who  had  stood  there  as 
speechless  and  inert  as  a  wooden  figure,  now  slowly  recov- 
ered his  benumbed  faculties. 

"  Kirkpatrick,"  he  said,  with  pitiful  bravado,  in  which 
there  was  a  note  of  entreaty,  "  I  think  we  may  congratulate 
ourselves  on  the  way  we  fought  the  ship!  " 


263 


CHAPTER   XX 

'IRK  did  not  know,  until  he  descended  from 
the  bridge  to  assure  himself  of  Vera's  safety 
and  learn  the  extent  of  their  losses,  that  in 
one  brief  hour  he  had  become  a  hero.  This 
fact,  quite  unsuspected  on  his  part  was  borne 
in  on  him  by  the  tumultuous  cheering  that  greeted  his 
appearance.  There  was  a  rush  to  acclaim  him,  to  shake  his 
hands,  to  overwhelm  him  with  vociferous  admiration.  Pow- 
der-blackened men,  naked  to  the  waist,  with  disheveled  hair 
and  splashed  with  blood  and  dirt,  surged  about  him  with 
mad  enthusiasm.  It  was  all  he  could  do  to  force  his  way 
amidships,  struggling  in  the  most  undignified  manner  with 
those  who  would  have  raised  him  on  their  shoulders  and 
borne  him  aloft  in  triumph. 

Tasting  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  the  most  intoxicating 
pleasure  the  world  can  give,  his  bewilderment  was  only 
equaled  by  his  surprise.  It  had  not  dawned  on  him  before 
that  he  had  done  anything  so  extraordinary,  and  he  had  even 
feared  that  his  assumption  of  command  might  later  on  be 
resented.  But  here  he  was  the  hero  of  the  ship,  with  great 
bearded  fellows  exalting  him  to  the  skies  and  huzzaing  like 
so  many  lunatics.  Amidships  he  was  acclaimed  with  similar 
outbursts.  Wounded  men  raised  themselves  to  call  out 
faintly :  "  Well  done,  Kirkpatrick !  Good  for  you,  old 
man !  "  Old  Zeddy  had  one  arm  around  him  like  a  bear. 
Mrs.  Hitchcock  was  covering  his  hand  with  kisses  and  cry- 
ing hysterically.  He  was  pushed  and  jostled  and  almost 

264 


THE   ADVENTURER 

torn  to  pieces.  As  in  a  dream  he  looked  for  Vera.  He  was 
too  human  not  to  long  that  she  was  there  to  see  him  at  this 
wonderful  moment. 

Ah !  there  she  was,  kneeling  beside  St.  Aubyn,  and  gazing 
up  at  him  with  eyes  like  stars.  Huddled  about  her  on  blan- 
kets and  mattresses  were  the  wounded  men  she  had  been 
tending,  hemming  her  in  so  closely  that  she  could  not  rise 
without  disturbing  them.  But  there  was  something  in  her 
glance  Kirk  thought  he  had  never  seen  before — something 
that  stirred  him  inexpressibly,  and  rilled  him  with  a  sudden 
and  wild  delight. 

But  disturbing  duties  crowded  on  him  fast  and  robbed 
him  of  those  ecstatic  moments.  It  was  extraordinary  how 
everyone  deferred  to  him,  and  made  him  at  once  the  arbiter 
of  all  their  destinies.  It  was  as  though  he  had  suddenly  been 
elected  king.  His  will  was  supreme,  and  authority  was  posi- 
tively forced  upon  him.  The  poor,  disgraced  captain  had 
hidden  himself  out  of  sight,  and  Haines  had  similarly  disap- 
peared. It  seemed  that  the  latter  had  lain  throughout  the 
battle  on  the  floor  of  the  top  in  a  state  of  abject  terror.  The 
news  had  run  round  the  ship,  and  he  had  been  hooted  and 
hissed  as  he  made  his  appearance  on  deck.  Fortune  as  usual 
had  favored  the  brave,  and  in  the  time  of  stress  the  true 
leader  had  arisen.  The  cravenness  of  Jackson  and  Haines 
had  been  the  means  of  exalting  Kirk. 

Their  loss  had  been  frightful,  eleven  killed  and  wounded 
out  of  a  complement  of  fifty-six.  Bence,  Farquer,  and 
McCann  killed ;  St.  Aubyn  dying ;  Weaver,  the  little  jockey, 
hanging  between  life  and  death,  his  only  chance  a  difficult 
operation  that  would  have  to  be  carried  out  under  the  most 
trying  and  unfavorable  circumstances ;  Johnson,  Wickersham, 
Stubbs,  Forsyth,  Niedringhaus,  and  Stanley  all  more  or  less 
seriously  hurt. 

265 


THE  ADVENTURER 

It  was  hard  to  decide  as  to  what  was  best  to  do.  To  ex- 
pose these  unfortunate  men  to  the  cruel  buffeting  of  the  ship 
was  manifestly,  for  a  while  at  least,  impossible.  The  condi- 
tion of  St.  Aubyn  and  Weaver  absolutely  precluded  it.  Yet 
time  was  precious,  and  the  ship  could  not  be  tied  up  indefi- 
nitely. Westbrook  and  Zeddy  were  for  going  on  at  once 
at  any  hazard.  They  were  sustained  by  the  wishes  of  the 
injured  men  themselves,  who,  with  magnificent  courage,  were 
unanimous  in  their  desire  not  to  hamper  the  expedition.  Mrs. 
Hitchcock  was  in  no  state  to  take  part  in  the  discussion,  and 
had  locked  herself  in  her  cabin,  sobbing  and  moaning  on  the 
floor. 

Kirk  was  for  temporizing,  and  with  his  new-found 
authority  he  had  little  difficulty  in  carrying  his  point.  They 
were  all  tired  out,  he  said,  and  neither  cool  nor  collected 
enough  to  settle  such  a  vital  matter  offhand.  He  wrung  a 
reluctant  consent  from  Von  Zedtwitz  and  Westbrook  that 
any  decision  should  be  postponed  for  twenty-four  hours. 

He  himself  was  utterly  exhausted  by  the  strain  of  the 
battle.  The  reaction  had  left  him  as  limp  as  a  rag.  In 
return  for  their  concession  he  consented  to  seek  his  bunk 
and  get  a  little  repose.  Not,  however,  until  he  had  made 
the  round  of  the  ship,  put  her  in  trim  to  renew  the  fight, 
if  need  be,  and  stationed  some  of  his  trustiest  men  on  guard. 
Even  then,  it  was  only  at  the  most  urgent  insistence  of  his 
two  friends  that  he  allowed  himself  to  be  ordered  below. 
But  they  promised  that  he  should  be  called  at  the  first  sign 
of  danger,  and  with  this  he  had  to  be  satisfied. 

"  See  here,  Kirkpatrick,"  said  Westbrook  bluntly, 
"  you've  shown  us  that  you  are  the  best  man  on  board,  and 
it's  only  common  sense  to  take  good  care  of  you.  Now  shut 
up,  and  go  below!  " 

Kirk  obeyed.  The  old  man's  paternal  tone  touched  him. 
266 


THE  ADVENTURER 

Praise  from  Vera's  father  was  praise  indeed,  however  roughly 
it  might  be  uttered.  He  threw  himself  on  his  bunk,  and 
turning  his  face  to  the  wall,  fell  fast  asleep.  He  had 
been  up  the  bigger  part  of  the  night  before,  and  this  had 
added  to  his  fatigue.  Body  and  brain  were  both  weary,  and 
he  nestled  his  face  to  the  pillow  like  a  child  to  its  mother's 
breast. 

He  had  no  idea  how  long  he  had  slept  when  he  felt  his 
shoulder  roughly  shaken,  and  looked  up  to  see  his  cabin 
crowded  with  men.  He  sprang  up  instantly  in  a  sweat  of 
apprehension,  thinking  that  the  Fortuna  was  again  in  danger. 

"Good  Heavens!  what's  the  matter?" 

"  It's  all  right.  Don't  worry.  We've  come  to  have  a 
talk  with  you." 

It  was  Westbrook  who  spoke,  and  Kirk's  alarm  vanished 
as  he  regarded  that  grave,  kind  face.  But  his  surprise  rose 
by  leaps  and  bounds  at  the  unexpected  sight  of  a  dozen  of 
the  crew  invading  his  room  and  peering  in  at  him  through 
the  doorway.  What  did  it  mean? 

"  We've  just  come  from  a  big  meeting  in  the  forecastle," 
said  Westbrook.  "  These  gentlemen  are  a  committee  who 
have  been  appointed  to  bring  you  the  news." 

"News?" 

"  You  have  been  elected  captain." 

Kirk  hardly  knew  what  to  say.  He  was  still  half  asleep. 
The  committee  solemnly  regarded  him,  while  he  drowsily 
regarded  the  committee.  The  silence  was  broken  by  Hilde- 
brand. 

"  There's  been  the  deuce  to  pay,"  he  said. 

Then  the  situation  was  gradually  explained. 

Mrs.  Hitchcock,  egged  on  by  Jackson,  had  flatly  an- 
nounced her  determination  to  throw  up  the  expedition.  The 
disasters  of  the  day  had  completely  cowed  her,  and  she  was 
18  267 


THE  ADVENTURER 

frantic  to  turn  back.  She  and  Jackson  had  been  among  the 
crew,  promising  enormous  sums  of  money  to  those  that  would 
side  with  her.  Unfortunately,  there  were  only  too  many  who 
themselves  had  lost  heart.  The  pair  had  secured  at  least 
sixteen  adherents,  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  drastic  action 
of  Westbrook  and  the  cooler  heads,  the  conspiracy  would 
have  soon  assumed  dangerous  proportions.  As  it  was,  it  was 
bad  enough,  though  the  bolder  spirits  had  rallied,  and  had 
defied  the  cowardly  minority.  Taking  the  bull  by  the  horns, 
they  had  deposed  Jackson  and  Haines,  placed  staunch  men 
in  charge  of  the  arms,  and  had  asserted  their  determination 
to  proceed  at  any  cost.  But  they  were  now  confronted  by 
three  powerful  enemies — Beale,  Jackson,  and  the  old  lady's 
money.  It  was  said  that  she  had  offered  the  Australian  fifty 
thousand  dollars  and  the  command  if  he  could  head  the  ship 
back  again  to  Felicidad,  together  with  ten  thousand  to  every 
recruit.  This  price  put  upon  timidity  threatened  to  under- 
mine the  resistance  of  those  who  otherwise  would  have  re- 
mained firm.  Why  should  they  risk  their  skins  for  proble- 
matical treasures  while  safety  and  an  assured  competence 
could  be  so  pleasantly  combined? 

Kirk  inquired  the  names  of  his  two  other  officers. 

"  Wicks  and  Goltz." 

He  could  not  have  asked  for  better.  Wicks  was  a  middle- 
aged,  merchant-service  man  holding  a  captain's  papers.  A 
bit  of  Devonshire  granite,  burly,  slow  of  speech,  with  un- 
flinching blue  eyes — a  fellow  to  be  relied  on  to  his  last  breath. 
Goltz  was  an  ex-Uhlan,  a  bitter,  brilliant,  irascible  creature, 
who  in  his  palmy  days  had  been  a  fop  and  bon  vivant,  and 
whose  broken  fortunes  had  left  him  nothing  but  a  daredevil 
courage.  He  held  his  life  cheap,  and  loved  danger  for  its 
own  sake. 

Kirk  buckled  on  his  pistol  and  went  on  deck.  It  was 
268 


THE   ADVENTURER 

nearly  five  o'clock,  and  the  breeze  still  held.  He  regretted 
the  necessity  for  losing  the  mileage  they  might  so  easily  have 
made  had  it  not  been  for  the  wounded.  But  this  was  in 
passing;  there  were  more  peremptory  things  to  claim  his 
attention.  Grouping  himself  with  his  two  officers  on  the 
bridge,  he  sent  word  for  Beale.  The  Australian  came  swag- 
gering aft,  and  mounted  the  ladder  with  a  jaunty  air. 

"  Hello,  Kirk !  "  he  said.    "  What's  up  ?  " 

"  Don't  call  me  that  again,"  exclaimed  Kirk.  "  I'm  the 
captain  of  this  ship,  and  the  sooner  you  know  it  the  better." 

Kirk's  hand  was  on  his  revolver,  and  he  looked  so  ready 
to  use  it  that  Beale's  little  ironical  speech  died  stillborn  at 
the  first  syllable. 

"  I  haven't  much  to  say  to  you,  'Beale,"  he  went  on,  "  ex- 
cept to  tell  you  that  if  you  don't  toe  the  line  I'll  clap  you 
in  irons  and  keep  you  there.  Do  you  understand  ?  No  tam- 
pering with  the  men,  no  dickering  with  Mrs.  Hitchcock,  no 
hole-and-corner  politics.  If  I  hear  another  word  about  turn- 
ing back,  I'll  know  who's  at  the  root  of  it,  and  will  give  you 
short  shrift.  You  can  go  forward." 

Beale  hesitated  as  though  to  argue  the  matter,  but  the 
row  of  resolute  faces  daunted  him,  and  he  turned  on  his  heel 
without  a  word.  It  was  no  little  victory  for  Kirk,  and  saved 
him  from  the  disagreeable  course  of  putting  his  threat  into 
execution. 

Then  he  sent  for  Jackson  and  Haines. 

The  latter  appeared  first.  He  was  a  sad-looking  object; 
his  features  swollen  up  with  weeping,  and  every  line  of  his 
body  articulate  with  dejection  and  shame.  He  acquiesced 
humbly  in  his  disrating,  and  took  his  lecture  in  a  snuffling 
silence.  When  he  was  told  he  had  to  shift  his  things  for- 
ward, and  take  up  his  quarters  in  the  forecastle,  he  broke 
down  completely,  and  went  away  crying  like  a  baby. 

269 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"Well,  where's  Jackson?" 

"  Won't  come,  captain !  " 

"  Won't  come,  eh  ?    What  did  he  say  ?  " 

The  answer  was  unprintable. 

"  Take  four  hands  with  you  and  bring  him." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir." 

Alas,  for  the  fall  of  the  mighty.  Was  this  the  erstwhile 
magnificent  being  who  had  lorded  it  in  the  high  places — his 
coat  ripped  down  his  back,  his  face  purple  with  passion,  his 
shapely  legs  kicking  and  struggling  like  a  recreant  school- 
boy's in  the  grasp  of  the  usher?  A  cursing,  reviling  maniac, 
fighting  every  inch  of  his  enforced  progress,  bellowing,  biting, 
scratching  with  superhuman  fury.  Dragged  in  front,  boosted 
from  behind,  the  late  ornament  of  the  transport  service  was 
ingloriously  hoisted  into  view. 

Kirk  was  alive  to  the  fact  that  he  owed  his  own  pro- 
motion, in  the  first  instance,  to  the  liking  Jackson  had  taken 
for  him,  and  he  was  consequently  desirous  to  be  as  easy 
with  his  former  commander  as  he  possibly  could.  Yet  at  the 
same  time  he  had  to  assert,  in  no  equivocal  fashion,  the  power 
that  had  been  invested  in  him.  Swift  and  decisive  action  was 
needed  to  stem  the  incipient  mutiny  before  it  could  gather 
greater  headway.  The  ringleaders  had  to  be  taught,  and 
taught  promptly,  that  any  attempt  to  turn  back  the  ship 
would  not  be  tolerated.  Any  paltering  with  the  situation 
would  assuredly  result  in  disaster.  As  in  every  assembly 
of  men,  the  mass  were  on  the  fence  ready  to  side  with  the 
winner.  It  was  a  case  of  taking  time  by  the  forelock  and 
striking  hard. 

Kirk  made  no  effort  to  check  Jackson's  tirade.  He  pa- 
tiently endured  insults,  threats,  and  vituperation  that  grew 
louder  and  more  incoherent  as  the  man's  fury  seemed  to 
burst  all  bounds.  Storming  and  raving  he  was  fairly  beside 

270 


THE  ADVENTURER 

himself,  frothing  at  the  mouth,  shaking  his  fist  in  the  air, 
defying  everything  and  everybody  with  a  hoarse,  spluttering 
torrent  of  invective  that  stopped  at  nothing.  Kirk  let  him 
roar  himself  out,  and  when  at  last,  spent  and  breathless,  he 
paused  from  sheer  exhaustion,  he  himself  bore  in. 

"  You've  had  your  turn,  Mr.  Jackson,"  he  said,  "  and 
now,  I  guess,  it's  mine.  All  this  noise  won't  do  you  any 
good.  I've  stood  it  once,  but  I  don't  intend  to  stand  it  again. 
You've  got  to  make  up  your  mind  either  to  take  your  medi- 
cine quietly,  or,  by  George,  I'll  bundle  you  forward  and  keep 
you  there.  You're  nothing  now  on  this  ship  but  a  passenger 
— do  you  hear? — a  passenger!  " 

Jackson  was  plainly  working  himself  up  for  a  fresh  ex- 
plosion. 

"  I — I — I — "  he  began  in  a  choking  voice. 

"  Silence!  "  thundered  Kirk,  advancing  on  him,  and  mo- 
tioning to  Goltz  for  the  handcuffs. 

The  jingle  of  steel  unmanned  Jackson.  He  gazed  wildly 
about  him,  and  jerked  his  hands  to  his  breast  as  though  to 
save  them  from  profanation.  His  bold  front  gave  way  to 
a  cringing  and  pitiable  submission. 

"  Hold  on,  boys,"  he  pleaded  in  a  broken  voice.  "  For 
God's  sake,  don't  put  those  things  on  me.  I — I  couldn't 
stand  it.  I'll  try  and  do  what  you  think  best." 

Kirk  ordered  Goltz  back. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said.  "  We  don't  want  to  humiliate  you 
if  we  can  help  it.  If  you  will  make  it  easy  for  us,  we'll 
make  it  easy  for  you,  and  let  bygones  be  bygones  all  round. 
Only  remember  this — you  have  more  influence  with  Mrs. 
Hitchcock  than  any  of  us — that  if  I  learn  of  any  more  bribes 
being  offered  to  our  men,  I  shall  hold  you  personally  respon^ 
sible.  That  kind  of  thing  has  to  stop.  You  must  make  it 
your  duty  to  see  that  it  does.  We  are  determined  to  push 

271 


THE   ADVENTURER 

the  expedition  through,  and  croakers  and  hangersback  will 
get  no  mercy.  Everybody  went  into  this  with  their  eyes 
open — and  now  that  they're  in,  they'll  have  to  stay  in.  That 
will  do.  You  may  go  below." 

"  He's  whipped,"  said  Westbrook,  as  they  watched  the 
ex-captain  descend  the  ladder  with  forlorn  deliberation. 

"  Hope  so,"  assented  Kirk.  "  But  the  ship's  full  of  loose 
powder,  and  a  spark  may  set  it  off." 

"  Well,  we  have  two  of  our  firebrands  in  list  slippers — 
Beale  and  Jackson." 

"  And  the  hose  ready,"  added  Wicks  with  a  grin. 

"  If  poor  St.  Aubyn  goes  it  will  have  a  very  bad  effect," 
said  Kirk.  "How  is  he?" 

"  Very  low." 

"And  Weaver?" 

"  No  better." 

Kirk  shuddered  as  his  eyes  swept  the  limitless  expanse 
about  them. 

"  What  a  place  to  leave  your  bones  in!  " 

"  Take  care,  my  friend,"  said  Westbrook,  tapping  him 
affectionately  on  the  back.  "  If  you  lose  heart,  what  shall 
become  of  us?  " 

"  I'd  give  half  my  share  to  be  under  way  again,"  ex- 
claimed Kirk  somberly.  "  This  inaction  is  killing.  We  are 
going  to  be  tied  up  here  for  days  and  days.  Gentlemen,  the 
coming  weeks  will  prove  a  greater  strain  than  our  fight  to- 
day, and  it  will  test  our  courage  a  good  deal  more." 

Dinner  that  night  was  the  gloomiest  of  rites.  No  one 
could  eat,  and  McCann's  empty  place  stared  at  them  like  a 
specter.  The  worthy,  jolly  fellow,  with  his  hackneyed  jokes 
and  unending  prattle,  was  now  still  forever.  In  life  he  had 
been  an  amiable  bore,  full  of  puns  and  quips,  and  clumsy, 

272 


THE   ADVENTURER 

good-humored  chaff.  It  was  hard  to  associate  him  with 
death,  or  to  think  that  he  lay  stiff  and  stark  with  a  sheet 
drawn  over  his  livid  face.  Mrs.  Hitchcock  kept  to  her 
cabin,  but  Jackson  took  his  accustomed  seat,  and  in  a  crushed, 
stricken  manner  showed  a  sort  of  gratefulness  at  rinding  he 
was  not  to  be  sent  to  Coventry.  They  were  all  at  some  pains 
to  ease  his  fall,  and  treat  him  with  consideration  and  respect. 
Vera  sat  beside  her  father,  but  she  was  downcast  and  silent, 
and  soon  excused  herself  and  slipped  away.  It  was  altogether 
a  hushed,  melancholy  performance,  and  everyone  was  re- 
lieved when  it  was  over. 

Kirk  made  his  rounds,  ordered  the  searchlight  lit,  sta- 
tioned a  couple  of  men  at  each  of  the  machine  guns,  and  then, 
turning  over  the  command  to  Wicks,  buried  himself  in  a 
dark  corner  to  smoke  a  cigar.  So  many  things  had  hap- 
pened that  he  wished  to  draw  on  one  side  and  think  them 
over — wanted  to  have  a  talk  with  himself — alone  and  un- 
disturbed. It  was  very  hard  for  him  to  realize  the  topsy- 
turvy changes  of  the  last  twelve  hours — the  battle,  the  depo- 
sition of  Jackson  and  Haines,  his  own  unexpected  elevation, 
the  unforeseen  and  alarming  stand  taken  by  the  old  lady  to 
break  up  the  expedition.  Through  all  the  random  pictures 
thus  counted  up  there  persisted  always  a  vivid,  girlish  face, 
with  haunting  eyes,  and  a  look  so  troubled  and  strange  that 
he  trembled  at  his  own  presumption  of  its  meaning.  Did  it 
not  reflect  something  of  his  own  heartsickness  ?  Of  his  own 
wild  longing? 

Ah,  this  love  that  was  supposed  to  be  so  sweet,  it  was 
the  crudest  thing  in  the  world ! 

Voices  drew  near  him — two  shadowy  figures  in  close 
and  confidential  talk — Vera  and  the  tall,  thin,  boyish 
doctor. 

"  It  will  be  an  hour  before  I  dare  to  try — perhaps  two. 
273 


THE  ADVENTURER 

I  can  do  nothing  until  he  rallies  a  little.  It's  what's  called 
a  capital  operation." 

"  But  he  has  a  strong  constitution." 

"  That's  almost  a  drawback,  Miss  Westbrook.  A  vital- 
ity lowered  by  long  illness  is  preferable  to  that  of  a  strong, 
hearty  fellow  struck  down  in  the  full  tide  of  health  and 
strength.  The  violent  arrest  is  equivalent  to  wrecking  an 
express  train  with  its  own  brakes. 

"  You  will  call  me  when  I'm  wanted?  " 

"  Oh,  yes —  That  is,  if  you  think  you're  brave  enough 
to—to " 

"  I'm  not  afraid,  doctor.  I'd  despise  myself  if  I  allowed 
my  squeamishness  to  stand  in  the  poor  fellow's  way.  I  may 
faint  afterwards,  but  until  the  operation  is  over  you  can 
rely  on  me." 

"  Miss  Westbrook,  you  are  a  thoroughbred." 

"  No — just  a  woman." 

"  And  shaming  the  men,  as  your  sex  always  does.  Those 
chaps  mean  well,  but  you  can  see  yourself  how  stupid  and 
useless  they  are.  I'd  rather  have  you  in  the  sick  bay  than 
a  dozen  of  them." 

"  Thank  you,  doctor." 

"  Get  a  little  air,  then  come  back.  I  want  to  put  Weaver 
on  the  table  and  get  out  that  arrowhead.  I'm  sure  it's  in 
there." 

"  Very  well.    I'll  stay  here  till  I'm  wanted." 

Phillips  turned  and  left  her  standing  there  alone.  Kirk 
called  to  her  softly.  She  started,  and  then  came  toward  him 
in  the  darkness.  In  an  instant  she  was  in  his  arms,  her  face 
burning  under  his  kisses,  her  little,  hot  hands  clinging  to  his. 
He  pressed  her  to  him  in  a  fever  of  delight  and  exultation. 
She  was  his.  He  had  snatched  her  from  all  the  fates,  and 
would  never  let  her  go  again.  He  had  no  thought  of  her 

274 


THE  ADVENTURER 

distress,  her  shame,  her  panting  whispers  to  be  released.  He 
kissed  her  until  she  forgot  everything  in  an  ecstasy  of  love, 
till  her  lips  were  as  eager  as  his,  till  in  that  resistless  torrent 
of  emotion  she  was  swept  headlong,  powerless  to  save  her- 
self. He  told  her  that  he  loved  her.  Oh,  how  he  loved 
her!  He  had  loved  her  from  the  first  day — loved  and  hated 
her — both.  Hated  her  for  her  beauty  that  had  tortured 
him  without  ceasing.  But  she  was  his  now.  He  extorted 
the  admission  from  her.  He  put  the  most  endearing 
words  into  her  mouth,  and  crushed  her  until  she  repeated 
them — repeated  them  again  and  again,  with  tender, 
mocking  variations.  The  primitive  woman  in  her  wanted 
to  be  coerced,  to  flutter  in  the  bonds  of  an  irresistible 
strength,  to  rouse  to  frenzy  that  most  savage  of  all  ego- 
isms. To  submit  was  rapture — to  believe  that  one  had  no 
choice — to  feel  a  delicious  helplessness,  and  swoon  in  an  iron 
grasp. 

"Kirk,  darling?" 

"Yes,  sweetheart." 

"  You  would  do  anything  for  me,  wouldn't  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  I  would." 

"  Even  if  it  were  very  disagreeable  ?  " 

"What  do  you  mean,  Vera?    I  don't  understand." 

"  Kirk,  Captain  Jackson  is  right !  " 

"Right!" 

"  It's  crazy  for  us  to  go  on.  Oh,  don't  hate  me  for  say- 
ing it !  But,  Kirk,  please,  for  my  sake.  No,  you  must  listen 
— you  must,  you  must.  It  is  too  dangerous  and  terrible  to 
go  on.  Think  of  all  those  poor  fellows  lying  there.  Nothing 
is  worth  such  a  price — no,  not  all  the  treasure  in  the  world ! 
It  was  all  very  well  before.  It  was  delightful  then.  It  was 
inspiriting  and  splendid.  But  now  it  would  be  wicked — 

275 


THE  ADVENTURER 

criminal,  Kirk.  If  it  were  in  a  better  cause  I'd  say  nothing. 
But  what  is  it  all  for — just  money." 

"  But  that's  everything." 

"No,  it  isn't!" 

"  It  is  to  me.  Otherwise  it  would  mean  losing  you.  I 
must  have  it." 

"  Oh,  Kirk,  papa  is  worth  ever  so  much !  He  will  take 
care  of  us." 

"  Oh,  that's  impossible.  You  would  not  have  me  a 
dependent." 

"  I  thought  you  wanted  me  so  much." 

"But  a  beggar?" 

"But  he'll  make  you  something — find  you  something 
to  do." 

"  Besides,  Vera,  I  couldn't  be  so  disloyal.  It's  more  even 
than  the  money — lots  more.  I'd  be  a  cur  to  back  out  now. 
What  could  be  more  treacherous,  more  ignominious!  As 
long  as  your  father  and  Von  Zedtwitz  wish  to  go  on,  don't 
you  see  I  have  no  other  course  ?  " 

"  But  talk  it  over  with  them.  Explain  it  to  them.  I 
know  they  will  listen  to  you.  Papa  defers  all  the  time  to 
your  judgment.  You  are  the  one  person  he  would  yield  to." 

"  I  simply  couldn't." 

"  Oh,  Kirk,  you  could — you  could!  " 

"  Besides,  we  are  more  than  halfway  there,  much 
more  than  halfway.  It  would  be  cowardly  to  turn  tail 
now." 

"  And  if  we  meet  more  savages?  " 

"Fight  them!" 

"And  if  I  were  hurt?  Suppose  I  had  to  have  my  foot 
cut  off  like  poor  Stanley?  " 

"  Next  time  I'll  see  that  you're  out  of  harm's  way. 
We're  going  to  armor  one  of  the  cabins  for  you  and  Mrs. 


THE   ADVENTURER 

Hitchcock,  and  make  certain  that  you  both  stay  there.  It 
was  frightful  how  you  exposed  yourself  to-day." 

"  And  if  the  ship  were  carried?  You  know  the  horrors 
that  a  woman  is  exposed  to?  I  should  have  thought  that 
that  might  have  weighed  with  you.  Think  of  my " 

"  Stop— Vera,  stop!    I— I " 

"  Is  it  not  true?  " 

"  No,  I'd  kill  you  first." 

"  And  if  you  were  dead  ?  " 

"  They've  learned  their  lesson.  They  won't  touch  us 
again.  Zedtwitz  is  positive  of  it." 

"  He'd  be  positive  of  anything — to  go  on." 

"  No,  no." 

"  It's  my  first  favor.  The  only  thing  I've  ever  asked  of 
you — and  you  refuse  it." 

"  I  have  to.    Good  Heavens,  I  have  no  choice!  " 

"Even  after  all  I've  said?" 

"  Oh,  my  darling,  try  and  put  yourself  in  my  place !  The 
disgrace  of  it — the  disloyalty!  The  decision  must  rest  abso- 
lutely with  your  father." 

"  Nothing  can  shake  him.  He's  incredibly  obstinate. 
His  whole  heart's  bound  up  with  this  wretched  ship  and  his 
childish  pride  in  it.  You're  just  the  same.  I  count  for 
nothing  with  either  of  you." 

"  That  isn't  true.     It's  a  question  of  honor." 

"  And  what  of  love?     Is  that  not  more?  " 

"Don't  put  it  like  that!" 

"  But  I  do." 

"  Then  I'm  helpless." 

"Yes  or  no,  Kirk?" 

"Oh,  you  know  I  can't!" 

"  So  that's  the  test  of  your  love  for  me  ?  Well,  I  shall 
plead  no  longer.  I  have  some  pride,  too,  and  you  have 

277 


THE  ADVENTURER 

trampled  it  under  foot.  It's  a  bitter  thing  to  find  that  you 
have  given  your  heart  to  a  man  who  is  unworthy  of  it. 
No,  no,  don't — that's  all  over !  " 

She  gently  freed  herself,  and  left  him  before  he  could 
realize  the  full  significance  of  their  quarrel.  Then  he  fol- 
lowed her,  begging  incoherently  for  her  forgiveness. 

"  There's  nothing  to  forgive,"  she  said  in  a  sad  little 
voice.  "  You've  disappointed  me — that's  all.  I — I  thought 
you  cared,  Kirk." 

"But  I  do,  I  do!" 

"  I  don't  wish  to  talk  about  it  any  more.  It's  too  heart- 
breaking. But  if  to-morrow  you  don't  change  your  mind, 
I'll  never  speak  to  you  again." 

With  that  she  was  gone. 


278 


CHAPTER   XXI 

HE  next  day  at  dawn  the  mournful  prepara- 
tions had  to  be  made  to  inter  the  dead.  St. 
Aubyn  had  passed  away  during  the  night,  and 
four  graves  had  to  be  dug  a  little  way  from 
the  ship.  All  hands  were  assembled  to  pay 
the  last  honors  to  their  fallen  comrades,  and  the  four  bodies, 
sewed  in  hammocks,  were  reverently  borne  to  their  last  rest. 
The  flag  was  half-masted,  and  from  the  Fortunas  lofty  deck, 
and  grouped  about  her  guns,  the  little  handful  of  the  guard 
looked  down  at  the  slow  procession  wending  its  way  across 
the  prairie.  Westbrook  read  the  burial  service,  and  to  none 
of  his  hearers  had  it  ever  sounded  more  beautiful  or  im- 
pressive. The  vastness  and  desolation  of  the  scene,  the 
rugged  figures  of  the  men  leaning  on  their  rifles,  the  stately 
measure  of  the  words — all  conjured  up  a  picture  that  could 
never  be  forgotten. 

It  was  not  a  sight  to  strengthen  hearts  already  faint,  and 
on  their  return  a  council  of  war  was  held  in  the  chart  room 
to  discuss  the  very  serious  situation  that  now  confronted  them. 
Phillips,  previously  the  least  considered  of  the  party — a 
gawky,  boyish,  diffident  fellow,  fresh  from  the  medical  schools 
of  Edinburgh — had  now  become  a  powerful  factor  in  their 
plans.  He  was  listened  to  with  respect,  and  his  proposals 
were  attentively  considered. 

He  expatiated  on  the  harm  to  their  morale  that  would 
result  from  their  remaining  where  they  were.  The  constant 
sight  of  those  graves,  he  said,  would  have  a  depressing  effect 

279 


THE  ADVENTURER 

on  everyone  on  board,  and  sickness  would  indubitably  fol- 
low. He  was  for  putting  in  another  day's  sail,  and  then 
forming  a  comfortable  camp  beside  the  ship  where  the 
wounded  might  have  the  necessary  space  so  lacking  on  the 
Fortuna  itself,  and  at  least  two  weeks  for  recuperation.  The 
one  difficulty  in  the  way  was  Weaver's  extremely  precarious 
condition. 

"  I  cannot  assume  the  responsibility  single-handed  of 
moving  him,"  went  on  the  young  doctor.  "  Even  a  few  hours 
of  jolting  and  racking  might  cost  him  his  life.  But  it  seems 
to  me  that  this  is  a  case  of  considering  the  greater  good  of 
the  greater  number." 

"  When  do  you  think  he  would  be  in  a  state  to  safely 
endure  it?  "  It  was  Westbrook  who  asked. 

"  Gentlemen,  not  under  two  months." 

This  was  a  thunderclap. 

The  question  of  a  temporary  camp  a  few  miles  to  the 
southward  was  lost  in  the  greater  one  of  perhaps  condemning 
an  unfortunate  man  to  death.  Besides,  the  two  months 
would  trespass  seriously  on  their  reserves  of  provisions 
and  water,  not  to  speak  of  bringing  them  perilously  near 
the  wet  season  when  the  flooded  savanna  would  turn  to 
bog. 

"  It  is  a  peety,"  said  Von  Zedtwitz.  "  Weaver  was  a  fine 
man,  but " 

His  pause  spoke  volumes. 

"  And  the  others,  doctor?  " 

"  Oh,  I'll  have  them  fit  to  travel  in  a  fortnight!  " 

Weaver  was  indeed  a  dilemma. 

"And  he  may  die  after  all?"  said  Crawshaw. 

"Oh,  certainly,"  assented  Phillips.  "He  has  hardly 
three  chances  in  ten." 

There  followed  a  prolonged  discussion  that  brought  mat- 
280 


THE  ADVENTURER 

ters  no  nearer  a  climax.  Kirk,  who  had  held  back  and  said 
little,  was  the  first  to  resolve  their  perplexities. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  it  seems  to  me  not  a  matter  for 
us,  but  for  the  poor  fellow  himself.  Let  it  be  laid  before  him 
quite  frankly,  we  pledging  ourselves  to  abide  by  his  wishes. 
We  will  stay  here,  or  go  on,  or  go  back  to  Felicidad,  just 
as  he  desires.  This  is  the  only  way  to  evade  a  responsibility 
that  I,  for  one,  will  not  take  on  my  shoulders." 

"  The  captain's  right,"  put  in  Wicks. 

"  Is  he  in  any  condition  to  consider  it  ?  "  inquired  Goltz. 

"  Oh,  he  is  conscious,"  said  the  doctor.  "  This  morning 
he  dictated  a  letter  to  his  mother." 

"  Then  in  that  case  I  think  we  are  unanimous,"  ex- 
claimed Westbrook.  "Has  anyone  an  objection?" 

His  question,  though  including  them  all,  was  more  par- 
ticularly addressed  to  Von  Zedtwitz.  The  German  was  tug- 
ging at  his  whiskers  in  a  sullen,  fidgety  manner.  The  plan 
did  not  suit  him  at  all.  To  put  the  expedition  in  jeopardy 
for  the  sake  of  one  man  irritated  him  profoundly.  It  struck 
him  as  a  bit  of  silly  sentimentalism.  This  made  his  answer 
all  the  more  unexpected. 

"  I  bow  to  the  majority,"  he  said  grimly. 

Phillips  was  sent  away  to  submit  the  matter  to  Weaver. 

A  little  later  he  returned. 

"  You're  not  to  consider  him  at  all !  "  he  cried.  "  By 
George,  I  take  my  hat  off  to  that  fellow !  If  that  isn't  pluck 
for  you,  I'll  eat  my  hat!  " 

"  He  consents  to  go  on?  "  inquired  Westbrook. 

"  Insists  on  it.  I  had  to  tell  him  the  risk.  '  Hang  the 
risk,'  he  said,  '  a  man  can  only  die  once — only  keep  me  alive 
as  long  as  you  can,  doctor,  and  when  my  time's  come,  let  me 
go  easy ! ' ' 

There  were  exclamations  of  approval,  of  admiration. 
281 


THE  ADVENTURER 

The  dilemma  no  longer  existed.     Weaver  had  freed  them 
from  a  terrible  responsibility. 

"  After  all,  it's  only  what  any  of  us  would  have  done," 
said  Crawshaw  simply. 

By  ten  o'clock  the  Fortuna  was  under  way  again,  lying 
up  closehauled  against  a  stiff  breeze.  Cots  had  been  slung 
for  the  wounded,  alleviating  in  some  slight  measure  the 
trying  motion  of  the  ship.  The  hatches  were  off  the  main 
hold,  and  tents  and  other  paraphernalia  were  being  hoisted 
out  in  readiness  for  the  camp.  All  was  bustle  and  animation, 
and  it  was  apparent  that  the  men's  spirits  rose  with  every 
mile  which  separated  them  from  those  four  lonely  mounds 
behind  them.  Kirk  alone  betrayed  none  of  the  buoyancy 
that  was  everywhere  so  manifest.  He  was  in  a  bitter  and 
dejected  humor.  Vera  had  been  true  to  her  word,  and  had 
cut  him  to  the  quick  by  her  coldness  and  disdain.  He  had 
tried  to  reinstate  himself,  hoping  that  on  second  thoughts 
she  would  show  some  relenting.  But  she  had  listened  to  him 
in  silence,  and  then  had  turned  away.  He  was  no  match 
for  her  in  such  a  contest.  He  could  not  affect  a  similar 
attitude.  His  face  could  not  hide  how  cruelly  he  had  been 
hurt.  For  him  it  was  the  end  of  the  world,  the  end  of 
everything,  and  he  went  about  his  duties  with  a  benumbing 
sense  of  despair. 

But  there  was  too  much  on  his  shoulders  to  allow  him  for 
long  to  dwell  on  his  misery.  Orders  had  to  be  given,  a 
hundred  things  seen  to,  and  the  ship  vigilantly  watched  to 
coax  every  yard  out  of  her.  He  pressed  her  as  hard  as  he 
dared,  finding  a  certain  pleasure  in  scaring  his  command  out 
of  their  seven  wits.  Never  before  had  the  Fortuna  been  so 
audaciously  handled.  Again  and  again  her  weather  wheels 
lifted,  and  the  whole  enormous  fabric  careened  over  with  a 

282 


THE  ADVENTURER 

sickening  lurch  that  brought  the  heart  to  the  mouth.  With 
every  stitch  drawing,  a  mountain  of  humming,  bellying, 
straining  yellow  silk,  he  kept  her  racing  at  a  breakneck  pace, 
with  a  rush  and  thunder  in  consonance  with  his  own  harsh 
thoughts.  He  had  learned  every  trick  of  her  now.  He  knew 
to  a  hair  what  she  could  stand.  He  could  feel  and  trust 
her  like  his  own  body.  But  to  the  others,  who  had  no  such 
assurance,  it  was  as  though  they  had  given  themselves  over 
to  a  madman. 

Toward  noon  the  declining  wind  left  them  becalmed. 
There  was  the  usual  long,  sultry  interval,  to  be  borne  with 
what  patience  they  might.  The  good  news  was  passed 
around  the  ship  that  Weaver  was  better — positively  better. 
He  had  suddenly  become  a  very  important  personage,  and 
the  desperate  fight  he  was  making  to  keep  death  at  bay,  as 
well  as  the  courage  and  good  humor  with  which  he  bore 
his  frightful  sufferings,  stirred  his  companions  with  a  limit- 
less compassion.  The  new  camp  was  to  be  named  Weaver 
— Camp  Weaver — and  the  poor,  stricken,  little  jockey  de- 
rived much  satisfaction  from  the  honor. 

"How  good  you  boys  are!"  he  whispered.  "Camp 
Weaver!  I  say,  that's  the  sort  of  thing  to  make  a  chap 
feel  proud!" 

Mrs.  Hitchcock  appeared  at  table  that  day  for  the  first 
time  since  Jackson's  deposition.  She  was  very  subdued, 
though  there  was  a  gleam  in  her  sunken  black  eyes  that 
betokened  mischief.  But  she  was  civil  to  everybody,  in- 
quired the  day's  run,  and  comported  herself  with  a  sort  of 
stiff  dignity  that  became  her  very  well.  Westbrook  thought 
to  patch  up  peace  with  her,  and  mistook  her  carefully  cal- 
culated manner  as  an  overture  of  friendship.  But  he  was 
quickly  undeceived. 

"  You  fail  to  appreciate  my  position,"  she  said  coolly. 
19  283 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  You  have  everything  your  own  way  just  now,  and  I  am 
powerless.  But  I'll  find  a  means  to  assert  my  rights  long 
before  you  ever  reach  Cassaquiari." 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Hitchcock,"  cried  Westbrook,  "it  is 
most  painful  to  hear  you  speak  like  that !  May  I  not  appeal 
to  your  good  sense,  your  generosity,  to  set  at  rest  this  miser- 
able misunderstanding?  This  is  a  time  for  us  all  to  stand 
together,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  and  drop  all  our  differences 
for  the  common  good." 

He  rose,  and  came  over  to  her,  holding  out  his  hand. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  let  us  be  friends!"  he  exclaimed. 

Her  sallow  face  hardened,  and  two  little  spots  of  red 
showed  in  her  cheeks. 

"  We  are  not  friends,"  she  said,  "  and  we  never  can  be 
again.  This  vessel  is  my  property;  the  food  you  are  eating 
was  bought  with  my  money;  I  have  the  legal  right  to  de- 
mand our  return  to  Felicidad.  You  choose  to  defy  me — 
well,  I  will  make  no  threats,  but  I  warn  you  I  am  submit- 
ting to  compulsion,  and  will  seize  the  first  opportunity  to 
turn  the  tables  on  you." 

Westbrook  went  back  to  his  place  and  sat  down  again. 

It  was  an  unfortunate  moment  for  Jackson  to  remark 
that  he  himself  intended  to  sue  him  for  a  quarter  of  a  million 
damages.  "  For  abduction,"  he  said,  "  not  to  speak  of  bar- 
ratry, piracy,  and  wrongful  dismissal." 

At  this  Westbrook's  temper  leaped  all  bounds. 

"Then  sue  away!"  he  roared.  "Sue,  sue,  sue!  And 
I'll  show  you  up  in  court  for  the  coward  you  are!  Yester- 
day we  took  your  measure,  Jackson,  and  if  you  ever  say  sue 
again,  or  as  much  as  raise  your  little  finger  against  us,  we'll 
give  you  the  swiftest  trial  a  man  ever  got,  and  a  frog-march 
forward!  Sue,  indeed!  By  Heavens,  we'll  give  you  some- 
thing to  sue  for !  " 

284 


THE  ADVENTURER 

Jackson  bent  his  head  before  the  storm — his  cheeks,  his 
ears,  the  back  of  his  head  slowly  turned  to  crimson.  Mrs. 
Hitchcock  took  up  the  challenge  he  dared  not  accept,  and 
trembling  with  passion,  let  fly  the  lash  of  her  tongue. 

The  party  broke  up  in  disorder.  The  old  woman's  on- 
slaught could  only  be  evaded  by  flight.  There  ensued  a  gen- 
eral sauve  qui  pent,  her  strident  voice  pursuing  them  as  they 
hurried  up  the  companion.  All  compromises  had  become  im- 
possible. It  was  to  be  war — war  to  the  knife. 

Later  in  the  day  the  wind  sprang  up  as  brisk  as  before. 
Sail  was  again  made,  and  the  Fortuna  resumed  her  course. 
It  seemed  too  bad,  when  the  weather  conditions  were  so 
favorable,  that  they  should  be  condemned  to  a  tedious  period 
of  inaction.  By  sundown  the  dead  reckoning  showed  them 
to  be  within  a  hundred  and  ten  miles  of  Cassaquiari,  or 
hardly  more  than  three  days  distant.  But  there  was  no  help 
for  it,  and  the  only  thing  to  do  was  to  be  philosophical  and 
patient. 

The  camp  was  begun  at  once  beside  the  ship,  and  though 
it  was  not  completed  before  dark,  a  comfortable  shelter  was 
raised  for  the  wounded,  and  the  men  lowered  under  the 
supervision  of  the  doctor.  There  was  some  disagreement  as 
to  whether  the  camp  should  be  fortified  or  not.  One  idea  was 
to  intrench  it,  and  dismount  the  machine  guns  from  the  For- 
tuna. But  after  much  consideration  it  was  decided  that  the 
mobility  of  the  ship  was  too  precious  to  lose,  and  that  in  case 
of  emergency  it  would  be  wiser  to  get  on  board  of  her  and 
repeat,  if  they  could,  the  tactics  of  the  previous  battle.  Un- 
der sail  she  was  a  terrible  antagonist,  and  offered  them,  be- 
sides, the  advantage  of  flight.  Even  standing  she  was  a 
better  fort  than  any  they  could  build,  and  afforded  them  an 
incomparably  securer  refuge. 

285 


THE   ADVENTURER 

A  strict  routine  was  outlined,  and  the  petty  officers,  after 
being  assembled,  were  cautioned  to  use  the  greatest  vigilance, 
and  see  to  it  that  discipline  was  not  slackened.  In  idleness 
there  is  always  a  disintegrating  leaven  to  contend  with,  and 
a  considerable  body  of  men  is  more  apt  to  suffer  from  doing 
nothing  than  from  doubled  tasks.  Little  injustices  assume 
the  proportions  of  mountains,  grumblers  get  together  and 
contaminate  the  rest.  The  food,  the  commonest  cause  of 
all  discontent,  becomes  the  subject  of  furious  criticism. 
Satan,  if  he  does  not  actually  find  mischief  for  idle  hands, 
suggests  that  the  coffee  is  dishwater,  that  the  flour  is  musty, 
that  an  infamous  cook  is  victimizing  them  with  rotten  stores 
while  the  after  guard  is  fattening  with  every  luxury.  Kirk 
was  so  well  aware  of  this  that  he  proposed  that  they  should 
all  fare  and  fare  alike,  fore  and  aft,  and  evenly  divide  such 
little  delicacies  as  jam  and  butter  and  canned  fruit.  A 
rigorous  and  impartial  allowance,  without  favoritism  to  any 
but  the  sick,  would  go  far  to  keep  the  malcontents  in  order. 

They  all  foresaw — Westbrook,  Von  Zedtwitz,  Crawshaw, 
Wicks,  Goltz,  and  Kirk  himself — that  Camp  Weaver  was 
likely  to  become  a  hotbed  of  treachery  and  disloyalty.  With 
every  safeguard  it  would  be  impossible  to  prevent  Jackson 
and  Mrs.  Hitchcock  from  carrying  on  a  propaganda  for  re- 
treat. With  the  dazzling  inducements  the  latter  could  offer 
— so  tangible  and  sure  in  comparison  to  a  treasure  that  was 
conceivably  a  myth — this  period  of  delay  was  fraught  with  ex- 
treme danger.  To  many  of  these  needy  adventurers  a  sum  of 
five  or  ten  thousand  dollars  was  a  veritable  fortune  in  itself, 
and  the  bait  was  likely  to  be  greedily  taken.  The  situation 
had  to  be  faced  with  all  the  coolness  and  resolution  they  could 
muster,  and  it  was  determined  to  keep  a  close  watch  on  the 
pair,  and  nip  anything  in  the  nature  of  a  conspiracy  in  the 
bud.  Beale  especially  was  to  be  under  surveillance,  though 

286 


THE  ADVENTURER 

Wicks  told  them  that  the  fellow  had  lost  much  of  his  au- 
thority among  the  crew,  and  that  they  were  overrating  his 
capacity  for  evil. 

For  Kirk  the  trying  and  deadly  monotony  of  the  days 
that  followed  had  the  added  bitterness  of  his  estrangement 
from  Vera.  He  had  apparently  affronted  her  too  deeply  for 
forgiveness.  She  steadfastly  refused  his  advances,  kept  all 
she  could  out  of  his  way,  and  did  not  even  pay  him  the 
compliment  of  betraying  either  anger  or  chagrin.  In  public 
— and  he  never  saw  her  at  any  other  time — her  manner 
toward  him  was  undistinguishable  from  that  she  showed  the 
others.  She  did  not  pointedly  avoid  him,  she  addressed  him 
just  enough  to  give  the  rest  no  chance  for  remark  or  con- 
jecture, and  yet  her  girlish  armor  was  impenetrable. 

Kirk  grew  moody  and  silent,  and  kept  much  to  himself. 
He  dreaded  the  moments  that  brought  them  together,  and 
was  always  the  first  to  slip  away.  He  had  no  similar  armor 
— no  means  of  hiding  his  dejection — and  he  shrank  from 
those  enforced  meetings  that  brought  home  to  him  the  reali- 
zation of  all  that  he  had  lost.  The  days,  once  so  short, 
seemed  now  never  to  end,  and  he  would  pace  for  hours  be- 
fore his  tent,  up  and  down,  up  and  down,  in  a  blank  pre- 
occupation. Time,  for  that  matter,  hung  heavily  on  every- 
one. This  little  handful  of  human  beings  was  hemmed  in 
by  the  confines  of  their  camp  as  though  it  were  a  rock  in  the 
sea.  No  one  was  permitted  to  pass  the  lines,  and  in  that 
illimitable  solitude  they  actually  suffered  from  confinement. 

This  stern  rule  was  found  necessary  by  the  frequent  sight 
of  Indians.  Once  a  party  of  twenty  galloped  boldly  round 
the  camp,  and  were  only  driven  off  by  a  shot  fired  over  their 
heads.  The  lookout  constantly  reported  the  presence  of  the 
enemy  on  the  horizon,  and  more  than  once  all  hands  were 
called  to  arms.  At  night  the  great  searchlight  moved  rest- 

287 


THE  ADVENTURER 

lessly  in  its  orbit,  flooding  in  turn,  with  a  startling  brilliancy, 
every  segment  of  a  vast  circle.  No  precaution  was  omitted 
to  guard  the  camp,  and  at  regular  intervals  Kirk  made  the 
rounds  to  see  that  every  sentinel  was  in  his  place. 

The  irksomeness  of  it  all  was  intensified  by  the  lack  of 
improvement  in  Weaver.  His  condition  remained  unchanged. 
While  the  others  grew  daily  better,  he  hovered  between  life 
and  death,  and  gave  no  promise  of  ever  releasing  them  from 
their  predicament.  The  doctor  said  he  might  linger  on  for 
months,  and  only  shook  his  head  when  questioned  as  to  his 
ultimate  recovery.  The  uncertainty  told  on  everyone's  spir- 
its. It  seemed  as  though  they  were  stuck  there  forever.  The 
nervous  tension  showed  itself  in  many  disagreeable  ways — 
growling,  fault-finding,  quarrels,  and  fights.  Kirk's  author- 
ity was  taxed  to  the  utmost,  and  he  found  it  increasingly 
difficult  to  preserve  order.  He  had  to  overlook  many  little 
derelictions,  and  exert  all  his  tact  to  keep  down  turbulence 
and  broils.  Discipline  slowly  crumbled,  and  grievances  mul- 
tiplied. To  add  to  the  general  exasperation  the  weather  was 
perfect,  and  twice  a  day  they  were  tantalized  by  a  gusty 
Trade  that  under  happier  circumstances  might  have  so  fleetly 
carried  them  on. 

One  afternoon  there  was  a  heavy  squall  of  rain.  Kirk 
took  advantage  of  it  to  fill  his  water  tanks,  which  were 
already  seriously  depleted.  He  had  put  all  hands  on  a  rigid 
half  allowance,  and  this  alleviation  was  most  welcome.  The 
squabbling  and  heartburning  over  water  came  near  to  assum- 
ing the  proportions  of  a  mutiny.  The  niggardly  pint  that 
had  been  allowed  for  ablutions  he  had  had  to  cut  in  half. 
His  economy  had  been  bitterly  criticised,  for  of  all  hardships 
that  of  being  dirty  is  the  worst.  The  rain  was  a  Godsend, 
relieving  him  as  it  did  from  those  restrictions  he  had  deemed 
it  imperative  to  impose.  Incidentally  the  squall  drowned  out 

288 


THE  ADVENTURER 

the  camp,  blew  down  several  tents — including  his  own — 
and  incited  everyone  to  laundry  work.  There  was  a  scramble 
for  soap,  for  buckets,  pans,  basins.  Big  fellows,  stripped  to 
the  waist,  floundered  in  soapsuds,  rubbing  and  scrubbing 
under  the  downpour  with  the  glee  of  children.  It  was  the 
first  washday  in  Camp  Weaver — and  the  fact  that  it  was 
possibly  the  last  as  well  drove  everyone  into  the  open  with 
his  arms  full. 

As  soon  as  the  sun  came  out,  Kirk  had  the  winches  going 
on  board  the  Fortuna,  and  all  her  sails  hoisted.  He  was 
afraid  of  their  mildewing  on  the  booms  and  yards,  and  wished 
to  dry  them  thoroughly.  Every  sailor  knows  what  havoc 
damp  plays  on  board  a  ship,  especially  in  the  tropics,  and  how 
dearly  neglect  is  punished.  It  cost  Kirk  a  pang  to  hear  the 
slatting  of  the  booms,  and  watch  the  straining,  uneasy  sails 
as  though  the  old  ship  herself  was  fretting  to  be  off.  He  was 
fretting,  too,  and  it  seemed  more  unendurable  than  ever  to 
be  doomed  to  remain  there,  anchored  to  a  dying  man,  while 
the  precious  wind  was  blowing  itself  to  waste,  together  with 
all  their  hopes  and  plans. 

He  sighed,  and  went  back  to  his  tent,  where  it  lay  col- 
lapsed in  a  good-sized  puddle.  He  got  it  up  anew,  pinned 
his  soaking  and  bedraggled  wardrobe  to  the  guy  ropes,  and 
wondered  if  the  world  would  ever  be  dry  again.  The  air 
of  comfortlessness  everywhere,  the  yellow  mud,  the  cigar 
that  would  not  keep  alight,  his  slopping  feet,  the  disagreeable 
sensation  of  water  trickling  down  his  back — all  were  depress- 
ing to  the  spirit,  and  hard  to  bear  with  equanimity.  He 
returned  to  the  Fortuna,  and  swinging  himself  up  the  spidery 
spokes  of  her  front  wheels,  ensconced  himself  on  'the  truck. 
This  was  a  favorite  place  of  his.  For  an  undisturbed  nap 
it  had  no  equal.  Here  he  had  dreamed  away  many  a  hot 
hour,  snugly  hidden  out  of  sight.  It  was  cool,  silent,  and 

289 


THE  ADVENTURER 

peaceful,  though  a  trifle  hard  to  lie  on.  On  this  occasion 
it  had  the  added  advantage  of  being  dry. 

He  took  off  his  shoes  and  socks,  unloosened  his  belt,  and 
bundling  up  his  coat  into  a  pillow,  fell  into  a  doze.  The 
camp,  with  all  its  cares  and  discords  melted  away.  Basalt 
islands  rose  out  of  the  mist,  rimmed  with  palms,  and  set  in  a 
pellucid  sea.  His  boat  was  grating  on  the  shingle,  and  the 
natives  were  coming  down  to  welcome  him.  What  a  pity 
they  had  brought  all  those  pigs.  He  appreciated  the  com- 
pliment, of  course — but  what  should  he  do  with  them? 
Dozens  of  pigs,  borne  on  poles,  and  screaming  only  as  pigs 
can.  He  could  not  hear  a  word  that  Peau  was  saying — 
nothing  but  pig,  pig,  pig.  Then  the  boat  began  to  rock. 
The  fools  were  letting  it  slip  back  into  the  swell.  If  they 
weren't  careful  the  next  comber  would  roll  them  over! 

He  opened  his  eyes.  Pigs,  no — but  men,  distractedly 
shouting  and  yelling.  Through  the  rapidly  revolving  spokes 
of  the  wheels  he  saw  Wicks  with  a  rifle  at  his  shoulder, 
deliberately  aiming  at  the  ship.  With  this  one  exception  the 
whole  camp  seemed  to  be  in  pursuit,  as  they  might  after 
a  runaway,  straggling  out  for  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  in 
breathless  and  panicstricken  confusion.  For  a  moment  Kirk 
thought  the  Fortuna  had  broken  away  of  herself,  but  he  was 
quickly  undeceived  by  the  explosion  of  Wicks's  rifle — the 
threatening  gestures  of  the  pursuers — the  cries,  the  execra- 
tions— more  than  all  by  the  hoarse  rattle  of  the  steering 
chains  as  he  watched  them  tauten  and  slacken  in  obedience 
to  the  helm  above. 

Then  it  was  no  unlucky  accident  ?  A  directing  brain  was 
guiding  the  mighty  fabric,  and  he  could  feel  her  speed  quicken 
as  the  sheets  were  paid  out  and  she  was  put  dead  before  the 
wind.  Doubled  up  on  the  journals,  and  holding  on  with 
a  convulsive  clutch,  Kirk  slowly  began  to  recover  possession 

290 


THE  ADVENTURER 

of  his  faculties.  Ah,  he  understood  now  those  sly  glances — 
Beale's  unexpected  willingness  and  good  humor  in  getting 
the  gaskets  off — the  readiness  of  some  other  of  the  mal- 
contents to  bear  a  hand  for  the  common  good  while  better 
men  held  back,  intent  on  rescuing  their  sodden  belongings. 
It  was  as  plain  as  daylight  now. 

Jackson  and  Beale  had  run  away  with  the  ship! 


291 


CHAPTER   XXII 

HE  pursuing  figures  dwindled.  The  camp 
shrank  to  a  few  melancholy  bits  of  white 
silhouetted  far  behind  on  the  edge  of  the 
sky.  The  Fortuna  was  held  on  an  undevi- 
ating  course  to  the  westward,  her  booms 
guyed  out,  her  towering  sails  singing  as  she  plunged  and 
rocked  before  the  wind.  There  is  something  extraordinarily 
disconcerting  in  the  treachery  of  one's  mechanical  slaves — 
to  be  guillotined  by  one's  own  guillotine — to  be  shot  by  one's 
own  pistol.  It  was  almost  incredible  to  Kirk  that  their  good 
old  ship,  so  long  their  home,  which  had  borne  them  so 
bravely  and  so  well  into  these  untrodden  wilds,  could  now 
be  used  so  effectively  against  them. 

At  first  he  was  convinced  that  the  vessel  would  soon 
heave  to.  The  miscreants  could  impose  their  own  terms, 
and  he  never  doubted  but  what  there  would  be  a  parley — 
and  a  surrender.  Though  consumed  with  anger,  he  had 
to  admit  that  Jackson  had  the  whip  hand  of  them,  and 
he  tried  to  bring  himself  to  the  mortification  of  submission. 
It  would  be  a  hard  pill  to  swallow,  but  what  else  was 
there  for  them.  The  possession  of  the  ship,  the  guns,  the 
stores,  and  water  precluded  any  argument.  The  only  alter- 
native was  to  perish  miserably  like  castaway  sailors  on  a 
raft. 

No,  Jackson  had  it  all  his  own  way,  and  the  best  that 
could  be  made  of  defeat  was  to  accept  it  gracefully.  But  he 
ground  his  teeth  all  the  same,  and  in  his  heart  cherished  a 

292 


THE  ADVENTURER 

wild  plan  of  retribution,  even  if  it  had  to  be  put  by  till  they 
reached  Felicidad. 

But  there  was  no  sign  of  shortening  sail.  The  camp  had 
faded  from  view  and  still  the  ship  was  kept  at  a  terrific 
pace.  The  situation  began  to  assume  a  more  ominous  and 
sinister  aspect.  Was  there  to  be  no  parley  then?  Were 
these  fellows  above  coldbloodedly  deserting  the  party  be- 
hind ?  It  looked  more  and  more  like  it.  Revenge  had  to  give 
way  to  the  more  practical  consideration  of  what  he  was  to 
do.  Do!  What  could  he  do?  He  had  his  sixshooter,  but 
much  good  it  was  to  him,  crouched  there  on  the  journals 
and  holding  on  like  a  buckjumper.  Should  he  drop,  and 
take  his  chances  of  rejoining  the  camp?  Risky  and  worse 
still — profitless.  Should  he  wait  till  night,  and  then,  in 
some  way,  disable  the  vessel?  Excellent — if  he  but  knew 
how.  But  how?  He  racked  his  head  for  ways.  Almost 
any  harm  within  his  power  to  inflict  could  be  readily  re- 
paired. It  would  take  a  stick  of  dynamite  to  do  anything 
irreparable — but  he  had  no  dynamite.  He  knew  there  was 
some  in  the  hold,  but  what  likelihood  had  he  of  finding  it? 
None. 

The  machine  guns  ?  It  would  be  easy  to  put  them  out  of 
commission.  Easy,  too,  to  get  at  the  rockets  and  blue  lights 
in  the  chart  room  and  signal  the  position  of  the  ship  to  the 
desperate  men  behind.  But  the  distance  was  prohibitive. 
She  was  making  all  of  eight  knots,  and  it  would  be  a  long 
time  yet  before  the  wind  would  die  down.  They  would  make 
twenty  miles,  if  a  yard — and  maybe  thirty.  The  futility 
of  signaling  was  apparent,  even  if  he  sneaked  in  the  crow's 
nest  and  lashed  a  couple  of  lanterns,  the  one  above  the  other 
— even  if  he  helped  them  out  with  rockets  and  blue  lights. 
He  might  be  safe  enough  till  morning,  but  they'd  shoot  the 
lanterns  to  flinders.  It  was  impossible,  hopeless,  crazy. 

293 


THE  ADVENTURER 

There  loomed  up  before  him  a  much  less  glorious  role. 
To  boldly  come  out  at  sundown  and  appeal  to  the  men's 
humanity.  None  of  them  was  really  bad.  At  least,  he 
would  have  said  so  the  day  before.  Beale  himself  was  not 
at  all  one's  idea  of  an  absolutely  heartless  brute.  He  was 
blatant  and  vindictive,  and  swollen  with  ideas  of  his  own 
importance — but  it  was  impossible  to  believe  he  would  not 
listen  to  reason.  No  sane  man  would  care  to  blacken  his 
soul  with  so  terrible  a  crime.  As  he  studied  the  matter  from 
this  side  Kirk  realized  how  grossly  he  had  exaggerated  his 
fear,  and  the  more  he  was  relieved  the  angrier  he  grew  at 
such  triumphant  treachery.  It  was  on  the  cards  that  the 
mutineers  would  themselves  signal — blue  lights  and  all — to 
take  the  heart  out  of  the  majority  by  exposing  them  to  a 
frightful  tramp  across  twenty  miles  of  prairie.  Kirk's  blood 
boiled  at  the  thought  of  it.  Not  if  he  could  help  it,  by 
George.  He  would  gladly  have  given  his  life  to  circumvent 
such  deliberate  villainy,  which,  as  he  considered  it,  grew 
more  and  more  probable.  The  poor  wretches,  ready  to  drop 
with  exhaustion  and  thirst,  would  be  gathered  in  by  twos 
and  threes,  without  even  the  strength  to  reproach  the  scoun- 
drels who  had  inflicted  this  suffering  upon  them.  The  pic- 
ture of  Vera  on  this  all-night  march  roused  Kirk  to  des- 
peration. 

He  was  a  powerful  man,  in  the  prime  of  vigor  and  health. 
Better  still,  he  had  a  revolver  with  six  forty-four  cartridges. 
Surely  he  could  do  something — surely — surely!  Such  dev- 
iltry ought  not  to  be  permitted  to  go  unpunished.  By  Heav- 
ens, he  would  find  a  way !  He  had  to.  He  must. 

He  crept  out  on  one  of  the  axles,  warily,  holding  tight, 
watching  the  play  of  those  terrible  spiral  springs  through 
which  he  had  to  pass.  They  would  crush  together  as  the  ves- 
sel dipped,  and  then  rebound  again  with  disconcerting  sudden- 

294 


THE  ADVENTURER 

ness.  To  be  caught  here  was  to  have  one's  body  ground  to 
pulp — it  was  a  mouth,  with  snapping  fangs  of  steel,  holding 
one  at  bay  with  unutterable  horrors.  The  motion  of  the 
vessel  was  so  irregular  and  violent  that  it  was  impossible  to 
forecast  it.  Kirk  nerved  himself  for  the  ordeal,  and  wait- 
ing for  the  moment  of  rebound  dragged  himself  through 
with  feverish  agility.  The  fangs  closed  behind  him  with  a 
discordant  grating  and  creaking  that  made  him  shudder. 
But  he  was  safe.  His  head  swam,  he  saw  a  dizzy  world 
through  the  whir  of  wheels,  the  flesh  seemed  to  cringe  on 
his  bones — but  he  was  safe. 

He  crawled  out  till  he  could  see  the  channels  above  him, 
and  the  black,  impending  rigging  where  it  was  made  fast 
below.  He  undid  his  holster,  placed  his  pistol  in  his  trousers' 
pocket,  and,  with  the  grim  resolve  to  shoot  first,  pulled  him- 
self up  the  shrouds.  Here  he  rested  to  get  his  breath,  to  toss 
away  his  cap,  to  draw  out  his  revolver  and  cock  it.  Then 
with  stealthy  deliberation,  foot  by  foot,  he  mounted  till  his 
eyes  were  on  a  level  with  the  deck. 

At  the  steering  wheels  were  four  men  clinging  to  the 
spokes,  and  swaying  with  every  movement  of  the  ship — 
Beale,  Harding,  Gibbs,  and  Mackay — so  near  that  he  could 
see  the  whites  of  their  eyes.  The  big  Australian  had  a  pipe 
in  his  mouth,  and  his  bare,  sinewy  arms,  tattooed  in  a  dozen 
places,  sprawled  over  his  wheel  as  though,  as  usual,  he  was 
letting  the  others  do  all  the  work.  Forward  on  the  bridge 
Kirk  could  make  out  some  figures,  one  of  them  a  woman. 
From  the  crow's  nest  protruded  two  tiny  heads.  As  far  as 
he  could  gather  this  completed  the  complement  of  the  muti- 
neers. The  galley  was  shut,  the  long  deck  apparently  empty, 
and  the  fight  seemed  to  resolve  itself  into  one  against  four. 
If  he  could  manage  to  land  the  first  shot  the  rest  would  be 
child's  play. 

295 


THE   ADVENTURER 

He  scrambled  over  the  rail,  and  even  as  he  did  so,  Beale 
saw  him,  and  with  a  yell  whipped  out  a  revolver  from  his 
hip  pocket,  and  fired  at  him  point  blank.  Kirk  was  so  un- 
prepared for  the  fellow's  quickness  that  three  shots  whistled 
by  his  head  before  he  could  reply.  He  had  never  been  in 
a  pistol  duel  before,  and  to  make  a  target  of  a  man  was  a 
paralyzing  sensation.  His  weapon  seemed  to  go  off  of  itself. 
The  explosion  was  terrific.  There  was  a  flash  of  flame,  and 
agonized  faces  seen  through  the  smoke.  It  went  off  again 
and  again — bang,  bang,  bang,  like  a  cannon.  Where  was 
'Beale  ?  Was  that  he  lying  on  the  deck,  face  down,  kicking  ? 
Shamming,  maybe.  Well,  here  was  one  more.  The  bead 
of  the  pistol  danced  over  the  huddled  mass.  The  flame 
leaped  again.  Was  there  another  cartridge  left?  He 
couldn't  remember.  Oh,  he  wished  to  Heaven  he  could 
remember!  Why  weren't  the  other  fellows  shooting? 
Their  hands  were  all  on  the  spokes.  They  did  not  dare  to 
let  go — they  couldn't — without  Beale  to  help  them  the 
backlash  was  almost  unmasterable,  and  they  were  repeatedly 
lifted  off  their  feet.  The  vessel  was  yawing,  and  the  wind 
was  spilling  out  of  the  mainsail.  Kirk  had  a  vision  of  Haines 
on  the  weather  end  of  the  bridge,  leveling  a  rifle  at  him.  It 
was  now  or  never.  He  would  be  killed  like  a  dog.  His 
voice  was  uncontrollable.  It  was  all  he  could  do  to  speak, 
and  then  it  sounded  strange  and  cracked. 

"  Down  with  your  helm !  " 

The  men  gaped  at  him  in  consternation.  He  flourished 
his  revolver  at  their  quailing  faces.  Haines  began  pumping 
viciously  with  the  rifle.  Bullets  were  spattering  everywhere. 

"  Down  with  your  helm.     Down !     Down  \  " 

The  spokes  were  shot  to  starboard.  The  main  boom 
jibed,  snapping  the  guy  ropes  like  pack  thread.  Kirk  low- 
ered his  revolver,  and  running  aft,  bent  his  own  strength 

296 


THE   ADVENTURER 

to  putting  the  helm  hard  down — hard  down  as  far  as  it 
would  go.  The  Fortuna  turned  in  her  own  length,  and  with 
a  crash  like  the  end  of  the  world  rolled  completely  over. 

When  Kirk  came  to  himself  he  was  lying  in  a  tangle 
of  gear.  He  felt  sleepy  and  cold,  and  the  full  extent  of  the 
disaster  only  dawned  on  him  by  degrees.  There  was  a  dull, 
grinding  pain  in  his  right  shoulder,  and  the  arm  itself  was 
numb.  He  put  his  left  hand  to  his  head,  and  drew  it  away 
all  wet  with  blood.  He  regarded  it  stupidly,  and  then  in  the 
same  bewildered  way  pinched  his  legs  to  see  whether  they 
had  suffered.  No,  his  legs  seemed  all  right.  He  twiddled  his 
toes,  and  was  gratified  to  find  that  they  could  do  it.  He  felt 
himself  all  over,  prepared  for  horrifying  surprises,  and  find- 
ing none  returned  to  the  consideration  of  his  arm.  It  seemed 
to  be  broken.  It  was  as  lifeless  as  a  piece  of  wood.  He 
pulled  up  his  sleeve  and  touched  the  flesh  gingerly.  It  had 
a  livid  look  he  did  not  like,  and  ugly,  crimson  streaks.  Felt 
his  head  again,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  wasn't 
much  hurt,  though  his  hair  was  matted  with  blood,  and  there 
was  a  persistent  warm  trickle  down  one  ear. 

He  extricated  himself  and  staggered  to  his  feet.  The 
wreck  about  him  was  frightful.  The  deck  of  the  Fortuna 
rose  before  him,  sheer  as  a  wall.  He  was  standing  in  a  chaos 
of  sails,  ropes,  splintered  booms  and  yards,  crates,  barrels — 
from  which  he  heard  groans  and  faint  cries  for  help. 
Crushed  under  the  main  boom  he  perceived  the  figure  of  a 
man.  He  went  over  to  it.  It  was  Beale — or  what  had  once 
been  Beale — for  the  body  was  mangled  out  of  all  recognition 
save  for  one  tattooed  arm.  Farther  on  he  pulled  a  lot  of 
stuff  off  Haines  and  helped  him  up.  The  catastrophe  had  set- 
tled all  their  differences.  He  was  quite  glad  to  find  Haines 
unhurt — childishly  glad — effusive.  This  sullen,  red-headed 

297 


THE   ADVENTURER 

fellow,  who  a  few  moments  before  had  been  doing  his  utmost 
to  kill  him,  got  out  a  handkerchief  and  carefully  wound  it 
around  Kirk's  wound. 

"  Let's  try  to  find  the  old  lady,"  he  said.  "  She's  about 
here  somewhere.  I  thought  I  heard  her  voice  under  that 
sail." 

Together  they  started  off  to  search  for  her.  As  they 
were  doing  so  they  were  joined  by  Gibbs  and  Mackay.  The 
newcomers  brought  news  of  Jackson. 

"  I  guess  he's  done  for,"  said  Mackay.  "  He  was  still 
breathing  when  we  reached  him  in  the  foretop,  but  anybody 
could  see  he  was  a  goner.  Charley  was  lying  stone  dead  be- 
side him." 

"Who's  unaccounted  for?"  asked  Kirk.  His  tone  took 
on  its  usual  authority.  He  was  reminded  that  it  was  time 
to  assert  it. 

"  Beale." 

"  You  can  pass  him,"  said  Kirk  grimly.  "  He's  lying 
under  the  main  boom,  and  it  will  take  a  jack  to  get  his  body 
out.  Who  else?" 

"  Matthews  and  Harding." 

"  Gibbs,  you  try  to  break  your  way  into  the  doctor's 
cabin  and  find  us  a  little  whisky,  and  anything  else  you  can  see 
in  the  way  of  medicines  and  bandages.  Smash  open  the 
lockers  with  one  of  the  fire-axes.  And  some  water  if  you 
can  find  any — there'll  still  be  some  in  the  butts." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir." 

"  The  thing  for  the  rest  of  us  to  do  is  to  find  Matthews 
and  Mrs.  Hitchcock  and  Harding." 

They  began  searching  again,  scattering  so  as  to  cover 
the  largest  field.  A  cry  from  Mackay  brought  them  all 
together  as  fast  as  they  could  run.  He  had  discovered  Hard- 
ing and  Matthews  where  they  had  been  flung  beneath  the 

298 


THE  ADVENTURER 

mainsail.  The  canvas  was  ripped  open,  and  Matthews  crawled 
slowly  out,  none  the  worse  apparently  for  his  temporary 
imprisonment.  His  companion,  however,  was  insensible,  and 
it  was  no  easy  matter  to  drag  him  through  the  wreckage  to 
the  unencumbered  ground  beyond.  They  were  all  very 
shaky  and  bruised  and  exhausted.  Kirk's  shoulder  throbbed 
mercilessly,  and  at  times  it  was  all  he  could  do  to  stand. 
Never  was  anything  more  welcome  than  the  sight  of  Gibbs 
with  a  bottle  of  whisky  and  half  a  pail  of  water.  Some  of 
the  raw  spirits  was  forced  down  Harding's  throat,  and  he 
was  gradually  revived.  He  opened  his  eyes,  asked  where  he 
was,  swore  feebly,  and  then  sat  up.  The  others  made  cups 
of  their  hands,  and  greedily  drank  the  allowance  Kirk  served 
out.  It  was  a  scanty  one,  and  Kirk  refused  their  request  for 
more.  They  could  easily  have  obtained  the  bottle  by  force, 
and  they  eyed  it  longingly  as  he  kept  it  close  beside  him — 
but  no  one  stirred  a  hand.  The  swift  retribution  which  had 
overtaken  their  mutiny,  and  the  desperate  part  Kirk  had 
played  in  it,  had  cowed  them  into  servile  obedience.  Each 
was  eager  to  ingratiate  himself  in  the  captain's  favor,  and 
forestall  the  day  of  reckoning. 

Kirk  sent  them  back  to  look  for  Mrs.  Hitchcock,  while 
he  made  his  way,  painfully,  and  dragging  every  step,  to  where 
Jackson  and  Charley  Nesbit  were  lying,  still  within  the  top. 
The  great  searchlight,  with  its  complicated  apparatus  of 
lenses,  generators,  tubing,  and  valves  had  burst  all  over 
them,  and  was  emitting  an  overwhelming  stench  of  gas. 
The  two  men  were  locked  in  each  other's  arms,  the  one  dead, 
the  other  dying.  In  Nesbit's  face  there  was  a  look  of  un- 
utterable horror.  His  eyeballs  protruded,  his  mouth  was 
open  and  distorted,  he  had  seen — and  understood — the  death 
he  was  to  die. 

Jackson  presented  a  less  repulsive  spectacle.  He  had  the 
20  299 


THE   ADVENTURER 

air  of  being  asleep.  His  withered  cheeks,  his  bald  head,  his 
benignant  mutton-chop  whiskers,  had  miraculously  escaped 
the  pollution  of  blood.  They  drew  out  his  lifeless  body  and 
laid  it  on  the  ground,  buttoning  his  uniform  coat  together 
to  hide  his  crushed  and  bleeding  chest.  Kirk  was  in  the 
act  of  covering  his  face  with  a  handkerchief  when  he  heard 
Haines  running  toward  him.  The  man  was  so  unstrung  that 
he  could  hardly  speak.  He  stood  there  in  hysterical  agitation, 
endeavoring  to  compose  himself. 

"Found  her?"  asked  Kirk. 

Haines's  answer  was  lost  in  the  convulsive  movement  of 
his  lips.  Kirk  turned  to  him  and  hastened  toward  the  little 
group  that  was  signaling  to  him  wildly.  But  the  fellow 
caught  him  by  the  arm,  and  suddenly  recovering  speech,  broke 
into  a  frenzy  of  self-exculpation.  He  had  never  wanted  to 
desert  the  party.  The  others  had  forced  him — literally 
forced  him — might  he  be  struck  dead  that  minute  if  he  wasn't 
telling  the  absolute  truth!  Beale  had  held  a  knife  to  his 
throat.  Beale  was  a  black-hearted  villain.  Both  Jackson 
and  Mrs.  Hitchcock  had  wanted  to  heave  to  and  make  terms 
— to  get  back  was  all  they  wanted — to  get  back  to  Felicidad. 
With  all  hands,  of  course — with  all  hands.  But  Beale — ! 
If  Kirk  turned  against  him  now  he  was  a  dead  man.  Would 
Kirk  accept  his  diamond  pin?  It  was  worth  twenty  pounds. 
And  he  had  a  mother  and  two  sisters  dependent  on  him. 
Kirk  must  think  of  them.  An  old  mother  and  two  sisters! 
He  was  too  young  to  die.  He  ought  not  to  be  punished  for 
what  Beale  had  done.  It  would  be  monstrous  if  he  were 
punished  for  what  Beale  had  done.  Kirk  must  stand  by  him. 
Kirk  must  save  him  from  the  vengeance  of  the  others. 

Kirk  looked  him  squarely  in  the  face,  and  said  he  would 
make  no  promises. 

"  You  fellows  can  do  your  own  saving/'  he  said.  "  I 
300 


THE   ADVENTURER 

won't  lift  my  little  finger  to  befriend  any  of  you.  But  if  you 
are  given  any  sort  of  trial,  I'll  bear  witness  as  to  how  you 
acted  now,  and  it  will  probably  count  a  good  deal  for  or 
against  you.  If  you  pitch  in  with  a  will  and  do  everything 
you  are  told,  I'll  go  as  far  as  to  stand  up  and  tell  them  so." 

Haines  thanked  him  incoherently,  trying  again  to  force 
his  trumpery  pin  on  him.  In  the  midst  of  that  indescribable 
havoc,  with  the  dead  lying  about  them,  and  confronted  by 
an  ominous  and  terrible  future,  the  irony  of  such  a  bribe  made 
Kirk's  lip  curl.  Finally,  goaded  to  fury  by  the  fellow's 
beggarlike  insistence,  he  cast  the  pin  to  the  earth  and  ground 
it  under  his  heel. 

"  Whining  won't  help  you,"  he  cried.  "  Get  to  work, 
you  dog,  get  to  work !  " 

He  had  no  more  time  to  waste  on  the  creature,  and 
stumbled  forward  without  giving  him  another  thought, 
Haines  sticking  to  his  heels  like  a  whipped  cur,  and  officiously 
attempting  to  assist  him  over  the  obstacles  in  their  path. 
Together  they  reached  Mackay  and  Gibbs,  who  were  bending 
over  Mrs.  Hitchcock  in  bewildered  astonishment.  The  old 
woman  was  sitting  huddled  up  on  the  ground,  giggling  and 
grimacing  as  though  it  were  all  an  excellent  joke.  As  the 
ship  capsized  she  had  been  flung  against  a  canvas  ventilator 
and  carried  down  on  a  veritable  bed.  "  Like  shooting  the 
chutes,"  she  explained,  bubbling  over  with  hysterical  merri- 
ment, "  and  then  splashing  through  eternity  at  the  bottom !  " 

"  I  am  thankful  you  are  alive,"  said  Kirk. 

"  So  am  I,  young  man,"  she  returned  with  unimpaired 
sprightliness.  "  Moi  aussij  je  vous  assure/  " 

He  wondered  whether  he  ought  to  tell  her  of  Jackson's 
death,  and  on  second  thoughts  refrained.  She  would  find  it 
out  fast  enough  as  it  was.  But  her  crazy  gayety,  so  dis- 
cordant amid  the  universal  ruin,  seemed  at  the  moment 

301 


THE  ADVENTURER 

proof  against  all  misfortunes.  Babbling,  nodding,  energetic- 
ally gesticulating  with  her  hands,  she  persisted  in  a  vivacity 
that  under  the  circumstances  was  hardly  believable. 

"  Have  any  of  you  gentlemen  seen  my  little  black  bag?  " 
she  inquired  with  a  sudden  anxiety,  the  first  she  had  shown. 
"  Can't  afford  to  lose  that,  you  know.  Must  find  it.  Must 
find  it.  Hee-hee!  Has  my  letter  of  credit,  you  know,  and 
my  keys,  and  my  beauty  box.  Hee-hee,  my  little  black  bag! 
You  all  know  my  little  black  bag!  I  was  holding  it  in  my 
hand  as  the  ship  rolled  over!  " 

The  four  men  obediently  took  up  the  search,  and  groped 
about  in  the  litter  and  wreckage.  At  such  a  time  it  seemed 
a  piece  of  fantastic  childishness  to  be  looking  for  a  little 
black  bag  containing  nothing  more  valuable  than  a  letter  of 
credit.  A  sandwich  would  have  been  of  infinitely  greater 
worth.  But  the  old  lady  shrilly  urged  them  on,  and  it  was 
plain  they  would  get  no  peace  till  the  little  black  bag  were 
found.  They  might  have  been  looking  for  it  yet  had  not 
Gibbs  been  lucky  enough  to  find  it  under  a  tangle  of  gear. 
Mrs.  Hitchcock  clutched  it  from  his  hands,  and  uttering 
joyful  exclamations  of  gratitude,  hastened  to  assure  herself 
as  to  the  safety  of  its  contents.  This  done,  she  turned  to 
Kirk. 

"  Captain,"  she  cried,  "  I  put  myself  at  your  orders.  It's 
your  business  to  tell  us  what  to  do,  and  it's  ours  to  do  it — 
hee-hee — isn't  it,  Gibbs  ?  " 

"  My  idea  is  to  find  a  mirror  somewhere,  and  keep  flash- 
ing our  position  back  to  camp,"  said  Kirk.  "  It  will  give 
them  the  general  direction  to  reach  us,  and  if  night  falls 
before  they  arrive,  we'll  build  a  fire,  and  send  up  rockets 
at  intervals." 

"  I  am  sure  Captain  Jackson  would  approve  of  that,"  she 
said.  "  Hadn't  we  better  go  and  tell  him?  " 

302 


THE   ADVENTURER 

For  a  space  no  one  answered.  It  was  Gibbs  who  was  the 
first  brave  enough  to  answer. 

"  Why,  ma'am,"  he  faltered,  "  the  poor  gentleman  was 
in  the  foretop  when  she " 

Mrs.  Hitchcock  turned  very  pale,  trembled,  and  pressed 
her  hand  to  her  heart.  Gibbs  would  have  said  more,  but  she 
stopped  him. 

"  I — I  think  I'll  sit  down  here  a  little  while,  and — and — 
rest,"  she  said  at  last.  "  No,  don't  stay  with  me;  I  would 
rather  be  alone.  That  is,  if  there  is  nothing  I  can  do  for 
him?" 

"  There's  nothing,"  said  Kirk.  "  Nothing  that  you  or 
anyone  can  do  for  him  now." 

They  left  her  sitting  on  a  spar,  and  when  they  turned  and 
looked  back,  she  was  seen  on  her  knees,  praying. 

"  She  allus  thought  a  lot  of  Jackson,"  said  Mackay. 

"  More  than  I  ever  did,  the  domineering,  overbearing 
be—"  began  Gibbs. 

"  Hush,"  exclaimed  Kirk.  "  He's  dead  now,  and  has 
passed  beyond  criticism.  The  thing  for  us  to  do  is  to  dig 
the  reflector  out  of  the  searchlight  and  rig  up  an  apparatus 
to  swing  it  on." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  said  Gibbs  deferentially. 

"  It  can't  be  more'n  twenty  miles  to  camp,"  put  in 
Mackay,  "  and  in  clear  weather  like  this  the  flash  ought  to 
carry  all  of  sixty." 

Haines  shuddered. 

"  And  you  won't  let  them  be  too  hard  on  us,  sir,  will  you, 
sir?"  he  pleaded.  "I  have  a  mother,  sir,  and  two  young 
sisters  that " 

"  I've  told  you  it  all  depends  on  yourself,  Haines,"  in- 
terrupted Kirk  sternly.  "  You  fellows  will  have  to  earn 
your  forgiveness,  and  earn  it  in  the  next  few  hours.  Do  you 

303 


THE   ADVENTURER 

understand?  Earn  it  by  hard  work  and  rigid  obedience  to 
orders!" 

Heartily  protesting  their  intention  of  doing  so,  the  three 
mutineers  followed  Kirk  to  the  battered,  blood-splashed  top, 
and  applied  themselves  with  a  will  to  the  extrication  of  the 
reflector. 

Half  an  hour  later  an  improvised  heliograph  was  sending 
its  dazzling  message  across  the  prairie,  and  with  blinding 
flashes  incessantly  cut  the  arc  of  the  eastern  sky. 

It  was  midnight. 

The  survivors  were  gathered  about  a  fire,  whose  beams 
lit  up  their  shadowy  figures  drowsing  beside  their  rifles, 
ready  at  a  word  to  spring  to  their  feet  and  defend  the  wreck 
from  Indian  marauders.  Here  one  sprawled  his  length  on 
the  ground,  his  upturned  face  gray  and  careworn  in  the  fitful 
light,  as  though  sleep  itself  had  brought  no  respite,  and 
memory  was  retelling  in  troubled  dreams  the  desperate 
doings  of  the  day.  There,  another,  his  sinewy  hand  relaxed 
on  the  handle  of  his  Mauser,  breathing  heavily,  and  mum- 
bling interminably  to  himself.  And  all  about  them  rose  a 
wild  tangle  of  masts,  spars,  and  rigging,  seen  and  lost  and 
seen  again  as  the  fire  flickered  or  fell;  to  one  side  the  im- 
penetrable night,  on  the  other  the  dim  mountain  of  the 
Fortunas  hull  and  her  wall-like  deck,  sheerly  perpendicular, 
at  once  so  familiar  and  fantastic  in  its  altered  relation  to  the 
ground. 

Harding  lay  on  a  blanket,  moaning  faintly,  and  occasion- 
ally calling  out  in  a  husky  voice  for  water.  Mrs.  Hitchcock, 
spectral  and  grim,  hovered  over  him,  ministering  to  his  wants 
and  whispering  encouragement.  The  old  woman,  in  the  hour 
of  disaster,  was  showing  good  qualities  hitherto  unsuspected, 
and  the  finer  side  of  her  irresponsible  and  contradictory  na- 

304 


THE   ADVENTURER 

ture.  In  the  presence  of  death  and  suffering  she  seemed  to 
rise  superior  to  the  inveterate  triviality  that  Kirk  had  always 
associated  with  her.  The  incorrigible  giggler,  the  scatter- 
brained monologist,  for  once  stood  awestricken  before  the 
eternities. 

At  intervals  Kirk  put  a  match  to  a  rocket,  and  would 
watch  it  shoot  skyward  in  a  streak  of  fire,  till,  halting  in  the 
dome  of  night,  it  exploded  its  little  galaxy  of  stars.  Here 
for  an  instant  they  would  hang,  sparkling  brilliantly — crim- 
sons, blues,  greens,  all  intermixed  in  a  vivid  confusion — to 
vanish  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  the  blackness  blacker  for 
their  having  been. 

It  was  then,  it  seemed  to  Kirk,  that  the  poignancy  of  the 
disaster  most  fully  came  home  to  him.  These  fiery  signals, 
so  identified  with  the  distress  of  ships,  so  long  the  appeal  of 
castaway  and  perishing  seamen,  forced  upon  his  mind  an 
analogy  of  similar  hopelessness  and  despair. 

He  asked  himself  how  this  vast  mass  was  ever  to  be 
righted  again.  What  if  those  gigantic  masts  were  sprung, 
the  mighty  axles  twisted,  the  water  tanks  burst  asunder  by 
the  frightful  impact  with  which  the  Fortuna  had  struck  the 
ground?  In  the  universal  ruin  about  him  he  saw  no  means 
of  their  ever  extricating  themselves  again.  Were  they 
doomed  to  perish  miserably  of  starvation  and  lack  of  water — 
or,  more  appalling  still,  fall  slaves  to  the  savages?  No,  not 
that,  assuredly,  for  they  would  die  fighting  first.  Turn  as 
they  might,  there  was  but  one  way  of  escape,  and  that  was  by 
the  Fortuna.  Their  lives  depended  on  their  power  to  right 
her,  to  repair  her  shattered  fabric,  to  spread  her  torn  sails 
on  those  splintered  booms  and  yards,  and  once  more  entrust 
their  fate  to  the  willing  winds. 

And  if  they  failed? 

He  felt  within  him  a  welling  envy  of  the  dead.  In  his 
305 


THE  ADVENTURER 

weariness,  pain,  and  desperation  theirs  seemed  the  happier 
fate.  Was  it  not  better  to  go  like  that — swiftly,  suddenly — 
than  to  strive  day  after  day  against  the  impossible,  with  an 
increasing  realization  of  the  futility  of  all  effort?  A  crush- 
ing sense  that  he  was  to  blame  for  it  all  oppressed  his  heart. 
Not  for  having  capsized  the  vessel.  That  he  gloried  in. 
Better  to  have  the  wreck  of  the  Fortuna  than  no  Fortuna 
at  all.  It  was  some  satisfaction  that  Jackson's  villainy  had 
been  so  appropriately  punished.  He  had  not  a  particle  of 
pity  for  him,  or  Beale,  or  Nesbit.  They  had  only  got 
what  they  deserved.  His  remorse  went  farther  back.  Had 
he  only  listened  to  Vera's  pleadings,  to  her  reiterated  and 
passionate  appeals,  what  an  incalculable  amount  of  misery 
would  have  been  avoided.  In  the  retrospect  his  own  stub- 
bornness appeared  inexplicable.  He  cursed  the  stupid  pride 
that  had  worked  so  great  an  evil.  She  loved  him ;  she  would 
have  appreciated  at  its  full  the  sacrifice — had  he  made  it  for 
her.  Westbrook,  who  on  many  occasions  had  shown  such 
marked  and  unmistakable  regard  for  him,  would  have  been 
won  over.  They  would  have  returned  the  happiest  two 
people  in  the  world. 

And  now? 

Oh,  what  a  fool  he  had  been !    What  a  fool  he  had  been ! 

There  was  a  shout  in  the  darkness,  the  sound  of  stum- 
bling feet,  faint  far-away  voices  calling.  Von  Zedtwitz 
strode  into  the  firelight,  revolver  in  hand,  a  formidable, 
broad-shouldered  figure,  full  of  energy  and  ire. 

Kirk  sprang  up  to  meet  him. 

"Doctor!" 

"Kirgpatrick!" 

Explanations  hurriedly  passed.  The  German  was  in  a 
steaming  cloud  of  sweat,  and  his  voice  was  vibrant  and  gut- 

306 


THE  ADVENTURER 

tural  from  long  running.  His  delight  in  finding  Kirkpat- 
rick  alive  seemed  to  outweigh  every  other  aspect  of  the 
disaster,  and  he  grasped  him  in  the  embrace  of  a  bear. 
Though  less  effusive,  Kirk's  heart,  too,  was  full,  and  it 
brimmed  over  with  affection  for  the  honest  old  German. 
With  Von  Zedtwitz  there  seemed  to  come  an  atmosphere 
of  resolution,  sturdy  courage,  and  superb  self-confidence. 
The  latter  declared  that  he  was  pleased  to  find  the  situation 
no  worse.  It  was  pad,  of  course.  It  was  a  very  seerious 
madder.  Ach,  but  the  relief  to  find  his  poy  all  right — his 
hero  poy,  who  had  risked  everything  for  them  and  saved 
the  day! 

They  were  still  excitedly  talking  as  some  of  the  others 
began  to  straggle  in.  Dusty,  travel-worn,  limping  their  tired 
feet,  they  presented  a  sad  and  disheartened  aspect.  For 
twenty  odd  miles,  guided  by  Kirk's  signals,  they  had  toiled 
across  the  llano  like  an  army  in  precipitate  retreat.  Guns, 
blankets,  water  bottles  had  been  thrown  away.  Those  who 
had  dropped  out  were  left  where  they  fell.  All  cohesion  had 
disappeared.  It  had  degenerated  into  a  mad  scramble  for 
every  man  to  save  himself. 

Kirk  was  half  crazy  to  learn  news  of  Vera.  She,  too, 
had  started  out  with  the  rest.  Only  the  wounded  had  been 
left  behind.  He  eagerly  questioned  the  weary  throng  as  they 
arrived  in  twos  and  threes  and  threw  themselves  on  the 
ground.  They  could  tell  him  nothing  more  of  her,  nor  of 
her  father.  Spiritless  and  apathetic,  they  seemed  not  to 
care.  All  they  wanted  was  water  for  their  parched  throats, 
and  once  they  got  it  they  rolled  over  on  the  ground  like  logs. 
Von  Zedtwitz  had  disappeared  to  ascertain  as  best  he  could 
in  the  dark  the  probable  damage  to  the  ship.  The  only 
men  Kirk  could  rouse  into  action  were  the  recent  muti- 
neers. They  knew  on  which  side  their  bread  was  but- 

307 


THE  ADVENTURER 

tered,  and  showed  an  almost  pitiful  alacrity  and  zeal  to 
serve  him. 

Taking  two  of  them  with  lanterns,  Kirk  went  in  search 
of  the  missing.  The  folly  of  the  proceeding  struck  him 
before  they  had  gone  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  He  himself  was 
so  spent  and  ill  that  he  could  scarcely  walk.  They  had  no 
means  of  carrying  water,  no  compass  to  guide  them,  no  aid, 
in  fact,  to  give  beyond  the  little  whisky  that  still  remained 
in  the  bottle.  They  stood  there  helplessly  under  the  stars, 
fearful  of  going  on  lest  they  should  lose  the  direction,  and 
calling  out  as  loudly  as  they  could.  There  was  an  infinite 
melancholy  in  the  sound.  It  rose  in  the  void  like  a  wail  of 
anguish. 

"Hallo-o-o-a!     Hallo-o-o-a! " 

"  Hold  on !  "  cried  Haines  suddenly. 

"  It's  nothing  but  the  echo,"  said  O'Hara. 

"Listen!"  exclaimed  Kirk. 

From  far  across  the  prairie,  but  clear  and  distinct  in 
the  silent  air,  they  heard  what  seemed  to  be  an  answer  to 
their  call.  Again  their  own  shout  went  up.  Again  it 
was  answered  by  a  silvery  note  that  thrilled  on  Kirk's 
ears  with  startling  reassurance.  He  took  hold  of  Mackay's 
arm,  and  began  to  run.  Weariness  and  pain  were  for- 
gotten. 

"  Sing  out,  boys,"  he  panted  joyfully.  "  Keep  it  going — 
keep  it  going!  " 

"  Hallo-o-o-a,  there !     Hallo-o-o-a !  " 

Blundering  through  the  darkness,  shout  answering  shout, 
they  at  length  discerned  shadowy  figures  hastening  to  meet 
them.  The  first  was  Wicks,  who  on  recognizing  Kirk  let 
out  a  roar  like  a  bull.  Devonshire  granite  wasted  no  time 
in  greeting,  but  turned  back,  eager  to  pass  the  good  news  to 
his  companions. 

308 


THE  ADVENTURER 

"  It's  Kirk !  "  he  cried.  "  It's  the  captain  himself !  Right 
as  a  trivet,  and  no  harm  done !  " 

There  was  an  outburst  of  exclamations.  Kirk  found 
himself  in  the  center  of  a  little  group,  who  seemed  ready  to 
pull  him  to  pieces  from  excess  of  thankfulness — Wicks, 
Goltz,  Phillips,  Crawshaw,  Westbrook,  and  Vera.  The 
upraised  lantern  lit  their  pale  and  haggard  faces  thronging 
all  about  them.  Little  Crawshaw  wept  unblushingly.  West- 
brook,  in  that  mellow  voice  of  his,  always  so  sincere  and  kind, 
and  now  tinged  with  a  singular  nobility,  thanked  God  that 
Kirk  had  been  spared  to  them. 

"  I  never  thought  to  see  you  again,"  he  said.  "  It's  like 
meeting  one  risen  from  the  grave !  " 

Kirk  felt  a  little,  soft  hand  feeling  for  his  own,  and  an 
insinuating  girlish  body  nestling  beside  him.  Vera  had  not 
spoken  a  word,  but  her  eyes,  luminous  with  a  strange  and 
tender  light,  had  never  left  his  face.  She  perceived  what 
had  escaped  the  others. 

"Kirk,"  she  said  suddenly,  "you're  hurt!" 

"Oh,  it's  nothing!"  he  returned.  "Arm's  a  bit  dicky, 
that's  all." 

And  with  that  he  fainted. 


309 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

days  that  followed  were  hardly  more  than 
a  blank  to  him.  Looking  back  on  that  misty 
period,  his  most  pronounced  memory  was  that 
of  lying  with  a  clinical  thermometer  in  his 
mouth.  It  had  a  peculiarly  flat  taste,  and  he 
recalled  the  inordinate  amount  of  coaxing  that  it  took  to 
make  him  keep  it  there.  There  were  also  intervals  of  whisky 
in  teaspoons,  and  nauseating  messes  of  a  gray,  sticky  com- 
plexion that  he  had  to  be  persuaded,  with  extreme  difficulty, 
to  get  outside  of.  There  was  a  bitter  taste  always  in  his 
mouth  that  even  water  could  not  allay.  He  used  to  long 
for  it — for  water — piteously,  and  wondered  at  the  hardness 
of  heart  that  refused  him  any  beyond  a  meager  spoonful. 
Occasionally  he  was  given  fruit — the  most  luscious  looking 
peaches — that  disappointed  him  beyond  measure  by  their 
bitterness.  Everything  was  bitter,  or  mawkish,  or  dis- 
tasteful. 

It  had  become  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  to 
have  Vera  about.  When  he  opened  his  eyes  and  did  not  see 
her,  he  felt  a  vague  sense  of  indignation.  He  felt  that  he 
was  being  neglected.  He  would  complain  peevishly  to  the 
empty  air,  and  the  ache  in  his  bones  grew  worse.  There  was 
Phillips,  too.  He  hated  Phillips.  Phillips  and  the  ther- 
mometer seemed  to  go  together.  To  see  Phillips  was  to 
know  that  the  glass-testing  process  was  to  recommence. 
Once  he  chewed  it  in  good  earnest,  and,  oh,  dear,  wasn't 
there  a  commotion ! 

310 


THE   ADVENTURER 

As  he  grew  better  he  used  to  lie  for  hours  watching  Vera. 
Her  graceful  head,  the  turn  of  her  rounded  chin,  her  fair 
hair,  so  glossy  and  thick  and  soft,  was  an  unending  delight 
to  him.  He  had  no  idea  what  a  tyrant  he  was — what  an 
overgrown  and  exacting  baby.  When  he  wanted  anything 
he  roared  for  it  as  loudly  as  he  could.  It  was  her  place  to 
love  him,  to  caress  him,  to  throw  over  him  the  mantle  of 
an  exquisite  maternity.  He  took  it  all  for  granted.  He 
was  neither  grateful  nor  ungrateful.  But  when  she  was  out 
of  his  sight  he  mourned  and  fretted  for  her  without  cessation. 

One  afternoon  he  awoke  from  a  long  sleep.  His  drowsy 
eyes  took  her  in  with  a  strange  and  new  understanding.  He 
motioned  her  to  come  over,  and  he  faltered  as  she  knelt 
beside  the  cot  and  took  his  wasted  hand. 

"  Vera,"  he  said,  "  I  think  I  must  be  better." 

He  noticed  her  pallor,  the  dark  rings  under  her  eyes,  her 
worn,  wan  face,  beautiful  even  after  days  and  nights  of 
watching. 

"  How  long  have  I  been  here?  " 

"  Let  me  think.    Eight  days." 

"And  you  have  been  nursing  me?" 

"  Yes." 

"Why  didn't  you  leave  it  to  somebody  else?" 

"  Because  I  love  you,  silly  boy!  " 

A  delicious  contentment  stole  over  him.  He  felt  his  hand 
fondled  against  her  hand,  her  cheek,  her  lips.  It  was  sweet 
to  lie  there,  in  a  languor  of  weakness,  and  be  petted. 

"  I  must  be  a  sight!  " 

She  cooed  over  him. 

"  With  a  hideous  stubble  of  a  beard." 

More  coos. 

"And  yellow?" 

"No,  no!" 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  And  generally  disgusting?  " 

"  You  have  been  very  ill." 

"  It  was  my  arm,  of  course  ?  " 

"  Compound  fracture,  with  fever  and  delirium." 

"What  did  the  doctor  say?" 

"  That  you  must  obey  everything  you  are  told,  like  a 
good  boy." 

"  No— but  will  it  be  all  right?  " 

"Oh,  yes!" 

"Soon?" 

"Pretty  soon!" 

"What's  going  on  outside?" 

"  Heaps  of  things." 

"And  all  that  clanging  and  banging?" 

"  That's  papa  and  Mr.  Crawshaw — does  it  bother  your 
poor  head  ? " 

"  No,  I  like  it.    What  are  they  doing?  " 

"  Working  at  the  forge." 

"Then  they  still  have  hopes  of  getting  her  to  rights? 
The  Fortuna?  " 

"  Hopes!    Why,  they've  done  it!  " 

"  Done  it,  Vera?    Do  you  really  mean ?  " 

"  You  mustn't  get  excited." 

"  Oh,  but  my  darling,  you  are  keeping  me  on  tenter- 
hooks. She  was  not  damaged  ?  " 

"  Not  irreparably.  The  forward  truck  was  badly 
smashed.  The  mainmast  was  sprung,  too,  but  they  repaired 
the  place  by  shrinking  on  hoops  of  red-hot  iron.  The 
maintopmast  couldn't  be  saved,  but  the  foretopmast  was 
doctored  into  shape.  It  looks  awfully  patchy,  but  Mr. 
Wicks  is  sure  it  will  stand.  Oh,  they've  been  so  busy, 
Kirk!" 

"  And  the  water  tanks  ?  " 

312 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"What  about  them?" 

"They  held?" 

"  I  suppose  so.  Nobody  has  ever  said  a  word  about  them. 
But  we're  getting  the  same  old  skimpy  allowance." 

"Thank  God!" 

"  Now  you  must  stop  talking  and  shut  your  eyes." 

"  But  you'll  stay  close  to  me,  won't  you?  " 

"  Right  here." 

"  I  would  have  died  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you.  I  know  I 
would." 

"Pooh!    Go  to  sleep!" 

"Mayn't  I  be  grateful?" 

"Not  till  you  are  well?" 

"And  it  is  all  true  about  the  Fortuna?  You 
weren't  humoring  me,  were  you?  It  isn't  a  fairy  tale, 
Vera?" 

"No,  indeed!" 

"  And  it's  true  that  you  love  me?  " 

"  Yes,  dearest." 

"  For  always  and  always?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  nothing  shall  ever  come  between  us  again  ?  " 

"Never,  Kirk,  never!" 

"  I  wonder  if " 

The  rest  of  the  sentence  was  never  said.  His  hand  re- 
laxed. He  was  asleep. 

The  girl  rose  and  bent  over  him  with  anxious  solicitude. 
The  doctor,  tiptoeing  in,  discovered  her  gently  smoothing  the 
sick  man's  pillow. 

"How  is  he?" 

"Oh,  so  much  better!" 

"  Any  temperature  ?  " 

"  I  think  not.    He  has  been  talking  quite  coherently." 
313 


THE   ADVENTURER 

Phillips  himself  looked  down  at  the  thin,  handsome  face, 
studying  it  intently. 

"  I  fancy  he  is  out  of  the  woods,"  he  said. 

It  was  indeed  the  turning  point  in  Kirk's  illness.  He 
improved  rapidly.  Little  by  little  he  gradually  learned  all 
that  had  happened  since  the  night  of  the  wreck.  Harding  had 
lingered  a  few  days  and  then  had  passed  away,  never  having 
regained  complete  consciousness.  Strange  to  say,  Weaver 
himself  was  on  the  high  road  to  recovery.  The  little  jockey 
said  it  was  the  doctor.  The  doctor,  more  modestly,  ascribed 
it  to  a  miracle.  But  whoever  was  responsible,  the  fact  re- 
mained that  Weaver  was  limping  about  the  camp,  ready  to 
play  pinocle  or  checkers  with  anybody  who  had  a  spare 
moment  for  such  diversions. 

The  mutineers  had  been  left  off  scot  free,  although  there 
had  been  some  wild  talk  of  making  an  example  of  them. 
But  every  man  was  precious,  and  it  was  policy,  as  well  as 
mercy,  to  deal  easily  with  them.  The  fellows  had  buckled 
down  with  such  a  will,  and  had  shown  such  energy  and 
good  spirit,  that  at  last  by  universal  consent  they  were  re- 
instated and  forgiven.  Bygones  were  to  be  bygones,  and  the 
past  was  to  be  ignored. 

As  for  Mrs.  Hitchcock,  she  had  exhibited  an  astounding 
capacity  to  rebound  from  the  grief  and  contrition  that  had 
so  recently  oppressed  her.  For  a  couple  of  days  the  dead 
captain  had  received  the  tribute  of  her  broken  heart.  On 
the  third  she  announced  the  dedication  of  her  declining  years 
to  works  of  charity  and  mercy.  On  the  fourth  she  began 
to  darn  her  way  into  Von  Zedtwitz's  good  graces  through  his 
socks,  which,  it  must  be  said,  offered  an  admirable  field  for 
philanthropic  effort.  On  the  fifth  she  was  heard  to  say  that 
such  a  rugged  and  noble  nature  needed  but  a  woman — the 


THE  ADVENTURER 

right  woman — to  soften  and  round  it  out.  On  the  sixth 
this  thought  took  tangible  shape,  and  was  seen  in  active 
operation.  On  the  seventh  the  doctor,  presumably  softened 
and  rounded  out — and  certainly  ponderously  surprised  at  the 
swiftness  of  the  performance — was  duly  captured,  tagged, 
and  attached  to  the  Hitchcock  string. 

It  was  a  wonderful  day  for  Kirk  when,  leaning  on 
Vera's  arm,  he  was  permitted  to  leave  his  tent  and  see  with 
his  own  eyes  the  progress  that  had  been  made.  The  camp 
was  humming  like  a  factory.  Anvils  were  thundering,  bel- 
lows blowing,  and  the  Fortuna,  now  on  an  even  keel,  was 
overrun  with  men.  The  different  gangs  cheered  him  as  he 
moved  along,  and  crowded  about  him  with  handshakes  and 
hearty  congratulations.  It  gave  him  an  inexpressible  pleasure 
to  find  how  little  he  had  been  forgotten.  It  made  him  proud 
before  Vera  to  receive  the  homage  of  these  rough  fellows, 
and  see  their  faces  gladden  at  his  approach.  It  seemed  to 
raise  him  in  his  own  estimation.  It  was  no  small  achievement 
to  have  earned  such  affection  and  good  will.  How  good 
they  were — how  good  and  kind  and  generous! 

And,  by  George,  how  they  had  worked!  It  was  almost 
unbelievable.  One  might  almost  think,  to  look  at  her,  that 
the  Fortuna  had  never  turned  turtle  at  all.  There  were  big 
jacks  under  her  forward,  and  the  missing  maintopmast  gave 
her  an  unfamiliar  look,  but  once  on  deck  she  was  to  all 
appearance  the  same  old  ship,  and  not  particularly  changed. 
Kirk  examined  the  mainmast  attentively,  and  was  most 
pleased  with  the  job  they  had  made  of  it. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  her,  captain  ? "  asked  Craw- 
shaw. 

"  Good  as  ever,"   returned   Kirk,   "  and  if  she  doesn't 
stand  up  like  a  Trojan,  I'll  buy  you  a  new  hat." 
21  315 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  My  number  is  seven  and  three  quarters,"  exclaimed  the 
little  man,  grinning  broadly. 

"I'll  make  a  note  of  it  on  my  cuff,"  said  Kirk. 

"  And  so  you  two  children  are  engaged?  " 

"  Yes,  papa." 

"  And  friends  are  to  accept  this,  the  only  intimation  ?  " 

"  Yes,  papa." 

"  And  the  other  high-contracting  party — can't  he  speak?  " 

"  It  was  Vera's  idea  to  do  all  the  talking,  sir." 

"  And  what  am  I  to  do?    Faint  with  surprise?  " 

"  Yes,  papa." 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  haven't  seen  it  all  along?  Why,  I've 
had  you  two  under  a  microscope,  and  kept  awake  more  nights 
thinking  it  over  than  you  would  believe !  " 

"  It  kept  me  awake,  too,  papa." 

"  Worrying  about  your  old  dad,  and  wondering  what 
was  to  become  of  him  in  the  shuffle  ?  " 

"  Partly." 

"  Mr.  Westbrook,"  said  Kirk,  "  I  know  very  well  that 
your  daughter's  choice  is  bound  to  be  a  disappointment  to 
you.  She  is  throwing  herself  away  in  marrying  a  man  like 
me — but  I  love  her,  and  she  loves  me." 

"  Disappointment — humph !  How  do  you  know  it's  a 
disappointment,  young  man?  " 

"  She  has  the  world  at  her  feet." 

"  That  usually  means  an  earl." 

"  Oh,  papa,  do  be  serious!  It's  a  life  and  death  matter 
to  us." 

"  Well,  you  two,  listen  to  me.  When  I  first  saw  this 
thing  beginning  it  made  me  feel  mortal  bad,  I  can  tell  you. 
I  hardly  knew  what  sort  of  man  I  wanted  for  you,  but 
frankly — it  wasn't  Kirkpatrick.  But  I  was  a  man  of  the 

316 


THE   ADVENTURER 

world.  I  was  too  wise  to  show  any  marked  disapproval. 
The  stern  parent  is  answerable  for  half  the  unhappy  mar- 
riages. He  supplies  an  element  of  romance,  and  helps  to 
keep  the  little  darlings  in  a  flutter.  That  wasn't  my  idea  at 
all.  Mine  was  to  wait  for  the  varnish  to  wear  off,  and  let 
my  little  girl  see  her  admirer  in  his  true  light.  Character 
was  sure  to  come  out.  It  couldn't  be  hidden.  We  are  what 
we  are — and  sooner  or  later  we  show  ourselves.  Well,  the 
result  of  all  my  waiting  and  watching  was  to  discover  that 
Kirk  here  was  one  of  the  finest,  truest,  noblest  fellows  I've 
ever  known.  He  may  not  be  much  on  looks " 

"Oh,  papa !" 

"  But  he's  a  man,  every  inch  of  him,  and  pure  gold  all 
the  way  through — and  there's  nothing  he  could  ask  for  that 
I  wouldn't  give  him.  There!  I've  made  it  plain,  I  hope? 
Tried  to,  anyhow.  And  God  bless  both  of  you !  " 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you,"  said  Kirk.  "  I  was 
not  prepared  for — for —  It  means  so  much  to  me.  It — it 
means  everything." 

"  And  I'm  going  to  love  you  more  than  ever,"  said  Vera, 
throwing  her  arms  around  her  father's  neck.  "  You  mustn't 
think  it's  going  to  make  the  least  difference — because  it 
shan't!" 

"  But  we  haven't  finished  with  the  thing  yet,"  said  West- 
brook  with  dry  humor.  "  I  am  interested  in  the  young  man's 
prospects.  A  bit  hazy,  aren't  they  ?  " 

"  I've  been  thinking  over  that.  You  are  going  to  put  him 
in  charge  of  the  new  plant  in  Jersey  City." 

"  Oh,  I  am,  am  I  ?  A  post  requiring  every  technical 
qualification,  and  employing  eight  hundred  men !  " 

"  Kirk  can  do  anything!  " 

"  Ah,  no  doubt !  Big-gun  construction  being  one  of  those 
simple  things  that  anybody  can  pick  up — twelve-inch  rifles 

317 


THE  ADVENTURER 

made  while  you  wait,  and  delivered  daily  in  our  special  van ! 
Pom-poms  and  three-o-threes  left  on  your  doorstep  with  the 
milk!" 

"  Papa,  you're  mortifying  Kirk." 

"  God  forbid !  Only  let  us  get  down  to  earth.  Falling 
back  on  the  old  man  isn't  my  notion  at  all.  Silly,  too,  when 
there  is  a  tidy  little  independence  just  over  the  horizon." 

"  Papa,  you  promised  me  that  awful  night  that  if  we 
pulled  through  you  would  go  straight  home." 

"  That's  what  I'm  getting  to." 

"  No,  I  am  going  to  hold  you  to  your  word.  It's  all  too 
dreadful  and  dangerous.  I  won't  let  you  beg  off." 

"Who's  begging  off?" 

"  You  gave  your  solemn  word  of  honor!  " 

"  I  admit  it.  It  was  one  of  those  impulsive  occasions 
when  the  best  of  us  stumble.  I  lost  my  nerve — temporarily." 

"  Kirk  has  promised  me,  too." 

"  So  we  are  both  tied  up?  " 

"  Yes,  papa." 

"  And  so  the  expedition  has  to  be  abandoned  ?  " 

"  Of  course." 

"And  Zeddy?" 

"  He  can't  very  well  help  himself." 

"  It's  just  as  easy  to  go  on  now  as  to  go  back.  Ask 
Kirk." 

"  Are  you  going  to  break  your  word?  " 

"  No-o." 

"  I  hold  you  to  it,  papa." 

"  What  about  a  compromise  ?  " 

"Won't  listen  to  any!" 

"  And  condemn  Kirk  to  the  bread  of  dependence,  eh  ? 
Bitter  bread,  my  girl.  He  has  his  hand  on  a  fortune,  and 
you  will  not  let  him  reach  out  for  it?  " 

318 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  It  may  be  all  a  myth." 

"  Hundred  thousand  pounds  all  his  own !  Half  a  million 
dollars,  Vera!  At  four  per  cent " 

"  It's  no  good  talking,  papa.     I  won't,  I  won't!  " 

"  Isn't  Kirk  allowed  to  open  his  mouth  on  the  subject?  " 

"  We're  both  of  the  same  mind." 

"  Now  see  here,  Kirk,  if  you  hadn't  been  tied  hand  and 
foot  in  pink  ribbon,  what  would  your  vote  be?  " 

Poor  Kirk  hesitated.  He  tried  manfully  to  lie — but 
couldn't. 

"  I — I'd  see  the  thing  through,"  he  said. 

"  How  does  this  going  back  strike  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  if  Vera  insists " 

"  Now,  own  up — it's  a  frightful  disappointment  to  you, 
isn't  it?" 

"  I'd  sacrifice  more  than  that  for  her,  sir." 

"  Sacrifice — ah,  that's  the  word !  Frankly,  isn't  it  a  great 
pity  to  throw  up  the  sponge  when  we  are  on  the  very 
threshold  of  the  place?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  to  admit  it." 

"  Did  you  hear  that,  Vera?  " 

"  Yes,  papa." 

"  Doesn't  it  count  with  you  at  all  ?  " 

"But  the  risk?" 

"  There's  no  risk." 

"  It's  because  I  love  you  both  so  much." 

"  Didn't  you  tell  me  at  Felicidad  that  the  hardships 
would  surely  kill  me?  Why,  I  have  fattened  on  them. 
Never  felt  so  well  in  my  life !  It  seems  to  show  that  you  are 
not  always  right,  doesn't  it?  " 

"  I  want  to  go  home  and  live  happily  ever  afterwards." 

"  Postpone  it  a  few  weeks.  Oh,  my  dearie,  the  game  is 
in  your  hands !  Be  a  little  thoroughbred !  " 

319 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"Oh,  papa!" 

"  Please." 

"You  really  and  truly  like  Kirk,  don't  you?" 

"  Love  him  like  a  son !  " 

"And  believe  in  him?" 

"  Absolutely." 

"And  he  is  handsome,  isn't  he?  " 

"  My  own  image — at  his  age!  " 

"  And  when  we  get  back  you  will  let  me  ride  Toby?  " 

"  All  day  long." 

"And  jump?" 

"  If  Kirk  will  let  you." 

"  And  you  will  be  grateful  for  my  giving  in  so  beauti- 
fully?" 

"  Will  prove  it  by  a  lifetime  of  devotion." 

"  Don't  laugh  about  it — it's  awfully  serious.  I  haven't 
said  I  would  yet." 

"  Then  hurry  up  and  say  it." 

"  Papa,  I  let  you  off  your  promise !  " 

"Hurrah,  Kirk!     Southward  ho,  for  Cassaquiari!" 

"  By  Jove,  sir,  we'll  make  it  this  time!  " 

"  You  won't  mind  if  I  run  round  and  tell  Zeddy?  The 
poor  chap  has  been  eating  his  heart  out.  He  thought  it  was  all 
off.  The  tent  door  closes  at  ten  o'clock  sharp,  young  lady." 

"  Just  a  minute,  papa." 

"Another  string  to  that  agreement?  You  ought  to  be 
ashamed " 

"  No,  you  darling  old  daddy,  I  want  to  give  you  a  hug." 

"My  lamb!" 

"  Because,  after  all — (hug) — I  think  I  love  you — (hug) 
— the  best!  (Showers  of  kisses.)  Now,  run  away  and  play, 
and  keep  out  of  mischief,  and  don't  fight  anybody  bigger  than 
yourself!" 

320 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

INE  days  later  the  Fortuna,  with  her  sails 
furled,  lay  awaiting  Von  Zedtwitz's  return. 
To  port  were  some  low,  reddish  hills,  rising 
tier  upon  tier,  till  the  red  melted  in  the  blue 
and  purple  of  a  distant  mountain  chain.  To 
starboard  was  the  prairie,  shimmering  like  the  sea,  and  as 
illimitable.  Beneath  awnings,  fore  and  aft,  the  crew  and 
officers  of  the  ship  were  whiling  away  their  time  as  best 
they  could,  and  trying  to  keep  the  suspense  from  becoming 
unendurable.  Through  the  winding  gap  in  the  nearmost 
hills  Von  Zedtwitz  had  disappeared  three  days  before,  lead- 
ing a  party  of  ten  well-armed  volunteers.  Sixteen  miles 
beyond,  as  the  crow  flies,  was  Cassaquiari.  The  doctor  had 
been  positive  of  it;  had  pointed  triumphantly  at  the  land- 
marks in  proof;  had  resented,  with  fiery  impatience,  the 
least  doubt  being  cast  on  a  memory  that  went  back  so  many 
years.  Unfortunately,  the  two  observations  had  not  agreed. 
They  varied  by  sixty-odd  miles — nearly  a  whole  degree  of 
latitude. 

But  there  were  the  hills;  there  was  the  gap;  there  the 
doctor,  jubilant  and  vocif erative ;  every  assurance,  in  fact, 
that  they  had  struck  the  right  place.  They  had  manned  the 
side,  and  sent  him  forth  with  ringing  cheers.  That  had 
been  at  dawn  on  a  Tuesday  morning.  By  Wednesday  night 
they  had  fully  expected  the  party  to  return.  By  Thursday 
they  grew  anxious  and  apprehensive.  Friday  found  them 
very  gloomy  indeed. 

321 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"Foretop,  ahoy!" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Did  you  see  a  flash  just  now  a  couple  of  points  off 
that  cliff?" 

"  No,  captain." 

"  Make  out  anything?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Keep  a  sharp  lookout !  " 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir." 

This  colloquy  roused  the  ship.  Dozing  men  awakened 
and  inquired  what  was  the  matter.  Glasses  were  leveled  at 
the  place  Kirk  pointed  out.  But  nothing  could  be  detected. 
The  air,  quivering  with  heat,  gave  a  strange  unsteadiness 
to  the  bare  and  crimson  hills.  They  might  have  been  painted 
on  some  theatrical  drop  scene,  and  wobbling  in  the  draught. 

"On  deck,  there!" 

"What  is  it?" 

"  They're  coming,  sir !" 

There  was  a  hoarse  buzz  of  satisfaction,  followed  by  a 
rush  up  the  rigging.  Men  who  had  never  trusted  themselves 
before  beyond  a  score  of  ratlines  now  valiantly  assailed  the 
sky  itself,  racing  one  another  to  the  tops.  Some  stuck  mid- 
way, but  yelling  lustily  and  swelling  the  hubbub  that  on 
every  side  greeted  the  good  news. 

"Are  they  all  there?" 

"All  there,  captain." 

"Eleven?" 

"That's  right,  sir." 

"  Any  sign  of  trouble?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Not  carrying  anybody?" 

"  No  sign  of  it,  captain." 

"Who's  leading?" 

322 


THE  ADVENTURER 

"  Dr.  Von  Zedtwitz  himself,  sir." 

"What's  he  doing?" 

"  Seems  to  be  waving  his  shirt." 

"In  distress?" 

"  Can't  say — more  like  he  was  dancing,  sir." 

These  meager  details  were  passed  on  with  excited  com- 
ment. Glasses  were  focused  on  the  place  where  at  any 
moment  the  little  party  might  be  expected  to  emerge. 

A  tiny  speck  shot  into  view.  Behind  it,  in  single  file, 
gradually  appeared  ten  other  tiny  specks. 

The  sight  of  them  was  the  signal  for  a  mighty  cheer. 

Then  faces  were  picked  out,  with  eager  and  noisy  dis- 
agreement. It  became  a  burning  question  whether  the  fifth 
speck  was  Wicks  or  Jack  Cohen — whether  the  ninth  was 
Henderson  or  Crandall.  To  some  of  the  hands  these  ques- 
tions assumed  a  greater  importance  than  the  success  or  fail- 
ure of  the  expedition  itself. 

"  It's  Wicks,  you  wall-eyed  goat." 

"  Cohen,  or  I'll  eat  my  hat!    Tell  him  in  a  million." 

"  It's  Wicks,  just  the  same." 

"  Wicks,  nothing— it's  Jack!  " 

And  so  on,  and  so  on. 

The  human  monkey  must  chatter. 

The  specks  grew  bigger — now  toy  soldiers  in  size,  step- 
ping out  briskly.  Red,  sweaty  faces  bobbed  into  the  glass — 
Von  Zedtwitz's  tawny  whiskers — rifles,  cartridge  belts,  water 
bottles,  dazzling  bits  of  metal  work.  It  was  exasperating 
to  have  to  wait;  to  know  nothing;  to  search  vainly  for  any 
indication  of  how  things  had  fared  with  them.  Why  had 
they  not  arranged  on  a  signal?  Von  Zedtwitz,  bare  to  the 
waist,  continued  energetically  to  wave  his  shirt.  But  that 
might  mean  anything.  You  could  take  your  choice.  To 
some  it  seemed  a  good  omen.  Kirk  answered  it  by  breaking 

323 


THE  ADVENTURER 

out  the  ensign  at  the  main.  It  satisfied  his  crying  need  for 
action — to  do  something — to  relieve  in  any  way  the  tension 
that  grew  every  instant  more  insupportable.  The  bright 
bunting  drooped  lifelessly  at  the  masthead,  refusing  to  flut- 
ter. The  sun  beat  down  with  an  increasing  fierceness. 
The  toy  soldiers  were  running  now,  at  a  heavy  jogtrot, 
like  a  troop  of  boys  on  a  paper  chase,  but  keeping  together 
— a  string  of  shaggy,  overburdened  men — dirty  as  tramps 
— their  wicked-looking  rifles  giving  them  the  aspect  of 
desperadoes. 

Von  Zedtwitz  put  both  hands  to  his  mouth,  speaking- 
trumpet  fashion. 

The  ship  hushed. 

Tense  and  breathless,  everyone  waited  in  a  fever  of  im- 
patience to  learn  the  news. 

Was  the  treasure  still  there?  Or  had  others  got  in 
before  them?  Or  were  they,  after  all,  sixty  miles  out  of 
the  true  position? 

"  CRAWSHAW " 

Every  ear  was  strained.  Crawshaw!  Had  the  doctor 
gone  crazy? 

"  WAS   BITTEN " 

But  there  was  the  little  man  himself,  spectacles  and  all, 
skipping  like  a  colt ! 

"BY  A  SNAKE!" 

This  extraordinary  piece  of  intelligence,  so  remote  from 
the  subject  that  was  desperately  agitating  them,  overwhelmed 
them  with  an  astonishment  verging  on  dismay.  What  of 
Cassaquiari?  Of  the  treasure?  Of  all  those  ardent  hopes 
for  which  so  much  had  been  already  sacrificed  ?  They  stared 
at  the  doctor  in  amazement,  expecting  him  to  bellow,  in 
his  resounding  voice,  the  yes  or  no  on  which  everything 
turned.  But  he  seemed  to  consider  that  he  had  set  all  their 

324 


THE  ADVENTURER 

curiosity  at  rest,  and  resumed  his  ponderous  double  at  the 
head  of  his  men. 

The  ship  broke  into  a  wild  uproar.  Discipline  was  for- 
gotten. The  gun  crews  deserted  their  stations,  to  which 
Kirk,  ever  mindful  of  danger,  had  assigned  them  at  the 
first  ambiguous  gesticulations  of  the  old  German.  It  had 
flashed  across  his  mind  that  possibly  the  little  party  was 
being  pursued,  and  that  they  had  roused  a  hornet's  nest 
in  that  hollow  of  the  hills.  But  the  men  raced  pell-mell 
for  the  gangway  and,  with  shouts  and  huzzas,  streamed  over 
the  prairie  toward  their  comrades.  Kirk,  too,  caught  the 
contagion  and  darted  down.  He  grudged  every  moment  that 
kept  him  in  ignorance.  The  ship  might  take  care  of  itself. 
The  point  was  to  reach  Zeddy,  and  reach  him  quick. 

The  old  fellow  stood  panting  in  the  center  of  a 
mob. 

"  A  wiper,"  he  was  saying,  "  no  longer  than  that,  but 
flat-headed  and  wicious,  and  it  stung  him  just  above  the 
ankle.  Ah,  but  it  was  what  you  call  a  close  shave!  Many 
times  I  said :  '  He  will  die.  Assuredly  he  will  die !  '  And 
ach,  how  he  screamed !  You  wouldn't  think  so  little  a  fel- 
low could  scream  so  big.  Had  I  not  some  potash  permanga- 
nate, and  most  carefully  rubbed  it  in,  you  would  never  have 
seen  him  again !  " 

"But  Cassaquiari?"  demanded  Kirk,  beside  himself. 
"  What  we  want  to  know  is  whether  you  found  Cas- 
saquiari ?  " 

"  Of  gourse  we  found  Cassaquiari,"  returned  Von  Zedt- 
witz,  irritated  at  the  interruption.  "  Was  I  not  sure?  Did 
I  not  say  it  with  positiveness  ?  " 

"  And  the  treasure  ?    The  gold  ?  " 

"  It  was  there  where  the  snake  was.     I  thought  I  heard 

a  hiss,  and  so,  bromptly,  I  said " 

325 


THE  ADVENTURER 

"Oh,  hang  the  snake!  Good  Heavens,  man,  is  the 
treasure  actually,  positively,  there?  " 

"  Of  gourse." 

"  Just  as  you  left  it  all  those  years  ago  ?  Just  as  you 
described  it  to  us?  " 

"  Why,  certainly,  captain." 

"Bars  and  bars  of  it?" 

"Hundreds!    Ask  Wicks." 

"  Ay,  that's  a  fact,  sir,"  said  the  first  officer.  "  Lord ! 
but  I  never  saw  such  a  mountain  of  metal  in  all  my  days, 
and  stacked  so  nice  and  tidy  that  it  might  have  been  the 
Bank  of  England.  It  made  a  fellow  blink  to  think  that 
every  ingot  of  it  was  virgin  gold,  and  enough  to  buy  a  row 
of  cottages  in  the  High  Street  of  Appledore." 

Crawshaw  came  bustling  up  to  shake  hands.  He  looked 
not  a  penny  the  worse  for  his  bite,  and  was  in  uproarious 
spirits. 

"  Captain,"  he  cried,  his  eyes  shining  through  his  spec- 
tacles, "  the  treasure  was  the  least  of  it!  But  the  crumbling 
buildings,  acres  big,  all  covered  with  figures  and  hiero- 
glyphs— the  courts — the  triumphal  arches,  lopsided  and  top- 
pling— the  mystery  and  gloom  and  vastness  of  it  beggars 
all  description.  Imagine  the  grave  of  a  vanished  civiliza- 
tion— a  London  of  forty  centuries  ago — a  forgotten  Rome. 
It  seemed  to  catch  a  fellow  by  the  throat.  You  were  over- 
awed in  spite  of  yourself.  You  stood  in  the  middle  of  it 
all " 

He  paused,  at  a  loss  for  words  to  go  on.  The  colossal 
picture  in  his  mind  could  not  be  translated.  Speech  was 
inadequate. 

"  Corking!  "  said  Wicks  solemnly,  filling  the  breach. 


326 


CHAPTER   XXV 

N  the  first  flush  of  enthusiasm  and  joy  it 
seemed  as  though  the  object  of  their  voyage 
were  as  good  as  already  gained,  and  little 
thought  was  given  to  the  obstacles  that  yet 
had  to  be  overcome  before  the  Inca  treas- 
ure might  in  reality  be  called  their  own.  To  have  reached 
the  limits  of  the  llano  was  one  thing;  to  transport  fifteen 
tons  of  metal  thirty-one  miles  or  more  from  its  mountain 
stronghold  was  quite  another. 

A  tentative  effort,  made  with  one  of  the  automobiles, 
showed  in  a  very  disheartening  fashion  the  impossibility  of 
carrying  out  their  original  plan.  The  powerful  car,  stripped 
like  a  racer,  and  lightened  of  every  superfluous  ounce, 
attempted  in  vain  to  force  the  passage  of  the  hills.  The 
direction  was  constantly  lost;  rocks  and  declivities  inter- 
vened ;  a  day  was  spent  in  arduously  accomplishing  nothing. 
It  became  evident  that  such  haphazard  dashes  were  a 
mere  waste  of  time.  In  going  forward  the  circuitous  road 
behind  was  forgotten.  It  was  as  hard  to  get  the  car  back 
the  dozen  miles  it  had  covered  as  it  had  been  to  push  it  on. 
That  night,  in  a  council  of  war,  it  was  determined  to  survey 
a  track  to  Cassaquiari,  mark  the  way  with  guide  posts,  blast 
and  level  what  bad  places  were  encountered,  and,  if  necessary, 
build  some  light  bridges.  It  was  a  formidable  undertaking 
for  so  small  a  party,  hampered  besides  by  the  need  of  guard- 
ing the  ship,  and  having  always  to  keep  on  board  of  her 
a  sufficient  crew  to  resist  attack. 

327 


THE   ADVENTURER 

But  they  had  come  too  far,  and  had  endured  too  much, 
to  shrink  now  before  this  last  colossal  task.  The  knowl- 
edge that  the  treasure  was  indubitably  there,  and  had  actu- 
ally been  seen  and  touched  by  some  of  the  more  fortunate, 
animated  all  hands  with  an  heroic  resolution.  Men  hardly 
ever  learn  the  limit  of  their  physical  power,  having,  in 
ordinary  life,  so  small  an  occasion  to  exert  it  to  the  breaking 
point.  But  once  rouse  their  imagination,  and  dangle  before 
them  the  prize  of  all  others  that  incites  human  effort  to  the 
supreme  degree,  and  you  call  into  being  a  race  of  giants. 

For  five  weeks  the  dogged  work  went  on.  Shift  by 
shift  every  hour  of  daylight  was  utilized.  Axes  rang,  felling 
trees  on  the  scantily  wooded  uplands;  blasts  detonated, 
hurling  bowlders  in  the  air;  backs  bent  to  shovel,  crowbar, 
and  pick;  and  the  dusty  cars,  bearing  tools,  dynamite,  food, 
water,  and  encouragement,  incessantly  passed  and  repassed, 
honking  good  will,  and  at  times  even  proffering  their  strength 
to  drag  out  a  loosened  rock,  or  to  tug  some  timber  into  place. 

With  indomitable  energy,  mile  was  added  to  mile,  and 
the  rough  track  carried  steadily  forward  to  Cassaquiari. 
Every  day  the  cars  penetrated  farther,  skirting  chasms,  shak- 
ing the  flimsy,  newly  built  bridges,  cautiously  rounding 
curves  where  there  was  scarcely  an  inch  to  spare — impatient 
monsters,  reverberating  hoarsely,  and  demanding  their  prom- 
ised loads  of  gold. 

Though  his  arm  was  out  of  splints  Kirk  had  been  for- 
bidden by  the  doctor  to  use  it  overmuch,  and  the  poor  fellow 
chafed  at  the  idleness  that  was  thus  forced  upon  him.  He 
was  condemned  to  stay  by  the  Fortuna,  where  though  he 
found  plenty  of  things  to  occupy  his  leisure,  he  grudged  to 
the  others  the  inspiriting  work  he  was  not  permitted  to  share. 
From  the  foretop,  whose  dizzy  terrors  he  had  taught  Vera 
to  despise,  the  pair  would  sweep  the  hills  with  their  glasses, 

328 


THE  ADVENTURER 

and  pick  out,  as  far  as  their  eyes  could  discern,  the  tortuous 
road  that  was  to  open  the  way  to  the  golden  city. 

It  was  a  matter  of  some  bitterness  to  them  both  that 
they  were  never  to  see  Cassaquiari.  Westbrook  had  flatly 
said  so  in  one  of  his  rare  moments  of  asserted  authority. 
Their  divided  forces  kept  him  in  a  constant  flutter  of  alarm, 
and  he,  alone  of  the  whole  party,  had  Indian  on  the  brain. 
A  few  of  the  aborigines  had  once  been  seen  to  the  southeast, 
darkening  the  horizon  for  an  hour  and  then  sinking  over  it. 
But  the  memory  of  them  had  remained  to  torment  the  old 
man  with  visions  of  attack  and  massacre,  and  he  re- 
peatedly declared  that  neither  Kirk  nor  Vera  should  ever 
leave  the  ship. 

It  was  hard,  during  those  long,  hot  and  interminable  days, 
to  be  so  closely  confined  on  board.  In  the  general  sense  of 
security  engendered  by  the  profound  peace  about  them,  West- 
brook's  nervousness  appeared  more  and  more  absurd  and 
unreasonable.  He  was  always  insisting  on  vigilance,  in 
season  and  out;  with  his  own  hands  he  tended  the  machine 
guns  daily,  and  saw  that  the  working  parts  were  oiled  and 
bright;  the  rifles  in  the  chart  room  were  likewise  a  constant 
preoccupation  to  him,  and  he  kept  them  ready  and  loaded  for 
the  first  call  to  quarters.  At  night  he  was  out  of  his  bunk 
a  dozen  times  to  see  that  the  anchor  watch  was  awake,  the 
station  lanterns  lit,  and  the  officer  of  the  deck  alert  and 
at  his  post  of  duty. 

In  fact,  he  caused  not  a  little  grumbling  and  irritation 
by  the  strictness  of  the  precautions  he  took  on  himself  to 
impose.  The  anchor  watch,  dozing  here  and  there  under 
improvised  shelters,  resented  his  nocturnal  toe  feeling  for 
their  anatomies  in  the  dark  and  the  bull's-eye  lantern  shot 
suddenly  into  their  sleepy  faces.  Caution  was  all  right; 
in  the  abstract  everyone  believed  in  it;  but  as  instilled  by 

329 


THE  ADVENTURER 

a  savage  old  gentleman  at  two  in  the  morning,  it  was  uni- 
versally abhorred. 

Even  Kirk  and  Vera  grew  a  little  impatient  under  his 
restrictions.  They  pleaded  and  argued  with  him  in  vain 
to  be  allowed  to  see  Cassaquiari  before  they  left  the  place 
forever.  They  derided  the  thought  of  Indians;  hotly  denied 
that  there  was  the  least  risk  in  the  world;  pointed  out  the 
injustice  of  this  wonderful  sight  being  withheld  from  them 
when  it  would  be  so  freely  accorded  to  the  others.  But  the 
old  fellow  would  not  give  way  an  inch.  His  daughter  was 
his  daughter,  he  would  say — uncontravertibly ;  and  Kirk 
was  needed  to  sail  the  ship.  He  could  not  afford  to  let 
either  out  of  his  sight.  Nor,  to  satisfy  this  objection,  would 
he  consent  to  go  with  them.  The  very  idea  appalled  him. 
Cool  and  courageous  in  the  face  of  real  danger,  he  was  a 
veritable  poltroon  before  that  of  his  own  imagining.  Phillips 
ascribed  it  to  the  reaction  following  extreme  mental  excite- 
ment; said  it  was  common  in  soldiers  after  a  battle;  gave 
it  a  Latin  name. 

All  this  while,  day  in,  day  out,  the  work  in  hand  went 
on  indefatigably.  Dawn  saw  the  cars  leaving  the  ship,  loaded 
with  men  and  material.  Dusk  saw  them  returning  with 
the  exciting  report  of  what  had  been  accomplished.  In  the 
stifling  galley  Hildebrand  stirred  his  great  pots,  scanned  his 
bursting  ovens,  brewed  his  huge  coppers  of  coffee  against 
that  mighty  supper  when  all  hands  reassembled  on  board. 
No  Vikings  in  the  past  ever  did  better  justice  to  a  board 
than  the  weary  and  voracious  Fortunas  after  their  day  of 
toil.  Even  under  a  torrid  sky  the  white  man  can  dig  his 
black  brother  under,  but  he  makes  up  for  it  by  an  onslaught 
on  meat  and  vegetables,  on  coffee,  marmalade,  and  pudding, 
that  is  truly  terrific.  Kirk  was  inclined  to  view  with  mis- 
giving this  frightful  inroad  on  their  provisions,  but  Von 

330 


THE   ADVENTURER 

Zedtwitz  declared  with  his  deep  laugh,  that  it  would  lighten 
the  ship  for  the  gold  to  come;  and  Westbrook  affirmed  the 
old  truth  that  the  human  engine  responds  in  proportion 
to  its  fuel. 

"  Feed  them  up  now  even  if  it  means  short  rations  after- 
wards," he  said.  "  To  stint  the  boys  now  would  be  fatal." 

And  the  "  boys  " — not  stinted — gobbled  up  whole  bar- 
rels of  salt  pork  and  beef,  whole  cases  of  marmalade,  jam, 
and  honey,  immense  crocks  of  butter,  mountains  of  new-made 
bread;  rough,  homely  fare,  but  good  for  muscle,  for  en- 
durance, for  prolonged  and  heavy  labor  under  the  fiercest 
sun  that  ever  shone;  with  tobacco  always  following,  of 
course  —  old-fashioned  niggerhead  as  black  as  the  ace  of 
spades — no  molasses  here,  but  all  leaf — solid,  hydraulically 
compressed  to  the  hardness  of  stone,  the  very  anthracite  of 
the  weed,  one  charge  of  which  would  keep  a  pipe  going  for 
hours.  Good  days — not  to  be  recalled  in  after  years  with- 
out a  pang  of  sentiment  for  the  honest  fellows  who  had 
shared  them. 

The  track  crept  up  and  up.  The  ten-mile  post  was 
planted — the  twenty-mile  post — the  thirty.  The  excitement 
grew  fast  and  furious  as  the  end  loomed  near.  One  night 
but  one  car  returned ;  the  other  was  in  Cassaquiari !  Yes,  in 
Cassaquiari,  its  crew  camping  beside  it,  and  eager  for  the 
honor  of  bringing  down  the  first  load  of  treasure!  The 
news  sent  the  ship  wild  with  delight.  Cheers  rose  on  cheers. 
Bearded  men  hugged  one  another,  and  capered  on  the  deck 
like  children.  Pistols  were  fired  in  the  air.  Everybody 
yelled  himself  hoarse  as  though  in  duty  bound  to  make  all 
the  noise  possible.  Tin  cans  were  beaten;  pots,  barrels. 
One  brazen-lunged  individual  got  hold  of  the  speaking 
trumpet  and,  in  deafening  tones,  demanded  cheers  for  West- 
brook,  for  Kirk,  for  Mrs.  Hitchcock,  for  Zeddy,  till  ex- 
23  331 


THE   ADVENTURER 

hausted  nature  could  no  longer  respond  to  the  ear-splitting 
invitation.  Ten  minutes  of  pandemonium;  of  frantic,  un- 
controllable joy;  of  boisterous  abandonment  of  all  restraint. 
Ten  million  dollars  was  theirs  to  divide  on  the  capstan  head. 
Ten  million  dollars,  hip,  hip,  hurrah!  Everyone  of  them 
was  rich,  rich  for  life,  and  in  a  few  short  days  they  would 
all  be  homeward  bound !  No  wonder  they  cheered  and  yelled 
and  danced  till  the  forecastle  shook.  The  prize  was  gained ! 
It  lay  over  there  in  the  darkness,  guarded  by  their  trusty 
mates.  It  was  as  good  as  already  aboard.  Ten  million 
dollars,  by  George!  Ten  million  dollars!  And  nothing 
to  do  now  but  to  bring  it  down  and  stow  it,  and  then 
bear  away  home,  with  every  stitch  drawing  alow  and 
aloft! 

At  daybreak  Crawshaw,  Von  Zedtwitz,  and  Henderson 
got  away,  inaugurating  a  regular  schedule  that  it  was  in- 
tended to  maintain  till  the  last  ingot  was  under  hatches. 
At  four  bells  of  the  morning  watch  the  other  car  appeared 
in  sight,  swiftly  darting  over  the  prairie,  three  men  on  the 
seat,  five  more  clinging  as  best  they  could  to  the  long  narrow 
deck  behind.  Honking  furiously,  the  car  drew  up  under 
the  Fortuna,  and  as  the  newcomers  sprang  up  the  gangway 
they  were  received  with  outbursts  no  less  loud  and  jubilant 
than  had  welcomed  Crawshaw  the  night  before.  But  the 
excitement  was  suddenly  hushed  to  a  breathless  suspense  as 
Goltz,  at  the  head  of  his  little  party,  marched  aft,  clicked 
heels,  and  saluted  Kirk  with  German  punctilio. 

"  Have  the  honor  to  report  our  arrival  on  board,  cap- 
tain." 

"  Very  good,  Mr.  Goltz." 

"  Was  too  overloaded  with  men  to  bring  down  more 
than  forty  bars,  sir." 

"Where  are  they?" 

332 


THE  ADVENTURER 

"  Alongside,  sir." 

"Mr.  Wicks?" 

"Sir!" 

"  You  have  rigged  a  block  and  tackle  to  the  fore- 
yard?" 

"  It's  all  in  shape,  sir." 

"  Then  hoist  in  the  stuff,  and  stow  it  in  the  lazarette." 

"  Very  good,  captain." 

A  few  moments  later,  as  the  first  batch  of  ingots  dangled 
in  the  air,  there  rose  shout  upon  shout  that  swelled  to  thun- 
der, followed  by  a  rush  to  see  and  actually  touch  the  won- 
derful prize  that  at  last  was  within  their  grasp.  The  sling 
was  opened  on  the  deck,  disclosing  forty  small,  dark,  flattish 
bars,  uniform  in  size,  and  deeply  pitted  with  the  corrosion 
of  time  and  damp  and  mold.  A  centipede  scurried  out  of 
the  heap,  and  was  forthwith  trampled  on.  There  was  a 
minute  of  tumultuous  exclamations,  of  crowding  in,  of  rub- 
bing the  dirty  metal  with  wet  fingers,  of  horseplay  and 
boisterousness.  Then  routine  asserted  itself. 

"  Stand  back,  there!     Stand  back!  " 

"Mr.  Wicks?" 

"Sir!" 

"  The  officer  of  the  deck  will  tally  off  the  loads  as 
they  come,  and  will  make  a  note  of  the  bars  in  duplicate. 
One  he  is  to  keep;  the  other  he  will  file  with  Mr.  West- 
brook." 

"  I  understand,  captain." 

"  You,  too,  Mr.  Goltz,  will  follow  the  same  instruc- 
tions." 

"  Quite  so,  sir." 

"  There  will  be  no  deviation  from  this  system  on  any 
account." 

"  Very  good,  sir." 

333 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  Afterwards  we'll  shift  enough  cabin  stores  for'rard  to 
trim  ship." 
"Ay,  ay!" 

Westbrook,  at  the  lazarette  door,  saw  the  treasure  safely 
deposited  within  its  dim  interior.  All  but  one  bar,  which  he 
retained  and  carried  to  the  table,  laying  it  carefully  on  a 
towel  to  prevent  it  smirching  the  cloth.  The  afterguard 
silently  and  intently  watched  him  file  a  small  surface  clean, 
and  drop  a  few  globules  of  acid  on  the  glittering  place. 

"  It's  gold,  all  right,"  he  murmured.  "  Yes,  it's  un- 
mistakably gold." 

Then  he  heaped  a  little  mass  of  filings  on  a  watch  glass. 

"  I  will  assay  these,"  he  continued,  looking  up.  "  I  sus- 
pect silver,  and  perhaps  a  little  lead.  The  color  is  a  bit  light 
— you  can  all  see  that,  gentlemen — too  light  for  absolute 
purity.  But  I  hazard  the  opinion  that  it  will  work  out  to 
about  nineteen  carats  fine." 


334 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

'OR  the  succeeding  period  everything  was  sub- 
ordinated to  the  task  of  bringing  down  the 
treasure.  Each  car  was  able  to  make  two 
round  trips  daily,  covering  a  distance  of  a 
hundred  and  twenty-odd  miles,  and  averag- 
ing a  thousand  pounds  to  a  load.  Crawshaw,  Henderson, 
Goltz,  and  Weaver  were  the  chauffeurs — one  on,  one  off — 
each  when  on  duty  accompanied  by  a  helper  drawn  in  turn 
from  the  crew,  who  vied  with  one  another  for  the  oppor- 
tunity. Goltz  and  Weaver  owed  this  honor  to  their  knowl- 
edge of  cars,  each  having  behind  him  a  wild  and  spendthrift 
past,  in  which  their  respective  motors  had  been  the  most 
innocent  of  their  extravagances — Weaver,  twice  winner  of 
the  Oaks,  once  of  the  Derby,  and  for  an  hour  the  most 
courted  little  man  in  England — and  Von  der  Goltz,  the 
dashing  Uhlan,  who  had  flung  two  fortunes  to  the  wind 
inside  a  year,  and  had  been  broken  for  an  escapade  that  was 
the  nine-days  wonder  of  Berlin. 

How  Kirk  envied  these  four  their  skill,  as  day  after  day 
they  came  and  went,  while  he  himself  was  condemned  to  a 
grinding  inaction.  It  was  unbearable  to  watch  the  great, 
gaunt  cars  leave  the  ship,  and  blithely  fly  across  the  prairie 
in  exhilarating  freedom ;  more  bitter  still  to  see  them  return, 
dusty,  panting,  sluggish  with  gold,  the  grimy  pair  on  the 
racing  seat  fresh  from  wonders  he  was  never  to  be  allowed 
to  behold.  Vera  was  as  chagrined  as  he,  and  hotly  declaimed 
against  her  father's  restriction.  It  was  absurd.  There  was 

335 


THE  ADVENTURER 

not  the  faintest  risk.  They  were  being  sacrificed  to  a  whim 
— singled  out,  alone  of  all  the  ship,  for  what  was  tanta- 
mount to  punishment. 

Their  indignation  was  increased  by  the  fact  that  West- 
brook,  in  spite  of  all  he  had  said,  himself  went  up  twice, 
and  returned  with  the  most  glowing  account  of  his  ex- 
periences. His  assumption  that  he  was  immune  from  danger, 
while  they  would  be  sure  to  attract  the  thunderbolts — was 
made  the  subject  of  a  fierce  and  unanswerable  argument. 
But  the  old  man  was  inflexible.  Vera  should  not  go. 
Neither  should  Kirk.  Beauty  might  storm  and  clench  her 
little  fists  and  half  cry  with  vexation,  but  it  was  no,  always 
no.  The  climax  was  reached  when  Mrs.  Hitchcock,  au- 
daciously ignoring  Westbrook's  prohibition,  choo-chooed  off 
with  Goltz,  and  spent  a  rapturous  day  in  the  mountains. 
This  was  the  last  straw.  It  was  unendurable  that  the  old 
lady  should  achieve  this  while  they  remained  fettered.  For 
nearly  seven  weeks,  remember,  the  pair  had  been  confined 
to  the  narrow  deck  of  the  Fortuna,  wistfully  eyeing  the  hills, 
and  longing  as  only  prisoners  can  long  for  freedom.  The 
exacting  old  man  would  not  allow  them  to  stray  from  the 
ship,  nor  even  walk  up  and  down  beside  it.  To  defy  him, 
in  his  nervous  and  highly  worked-up  condition,  would  have 
been  to  cause  a  scene  from  which  they  both  shrank. 
But 

The  conspiracy  dated  from  Mrs.  Hitchcock's  return. 
It  was  hatched  that  very  evening  after  Westbrook  had  turned 
in.  There  was  no  lack  of  confederates.  The  sympathy 
of  the  whole  ship  was  with  Kirk  and  Vera  in  their  enforced 
imprisonment  aboard.  If  they  were  to  see  Cassaquiari  at 
all,  time  had  to  be  taken  by  the  forelock,  as  there  was  already 
nearly  twenty-four  thousand  pounds'  weight  of  treasure 
stacked,  tier  upon  tier,  in  the  depths  of  the  lazarette.  The 

336 


THE  ADVENTURER 

afterguard  entered  whole  heartedly  into  the  plan  of  screening 
Kirk's  and  Vera's  absence  from  Mr.  Westbrook.  The  pair 
were  to  get  away  secretly  with  Crawshaw  after  the  midday 
meal — the  best  time,  it  was  judged,  for  undetected  flight — 
and  the  others  were  pledged  to  distract  the  old  man,  and 
allay,  on  his  part,  any  possible  suspicions  of  the  truth. 

Indeed,  his  whole  afternoon  was  mapped  out  for  him  in 
advance:  chess  with  Von  Zedtwitz — developing  photographs 
with  Phillips — a  descent  into  the  hold  with  Wicks  for  a 
rough  stock-taking  of  the  provisions.  It  seemed  a  stroke  of 
luck  that  this  last-named  matter  had  been  fretting  West- 
brook  for  some  little  time.  It  was  but  another  example  of 
his  increasing  fidgetiness,  since  Kirk  had  trained  Hildebrand 
into  an  exact  system  of  bookkeeping,  by  which  an  account 
was  kept  of  every  pound  used,  and  the  store  list  nightly 
posted  like  a  ledger.  But  at  this  juncture  the  proposed  ex- 
amination, so  long  opposed  as  unnecessary,  now  appeared 
most  fortunate. 

Luncheon  was  just  over.  The  afterguard,  under  an 
awning,  and  with  both  quarters  of  the  ship  screened  from  the 
glare  without,  sat  drinking  their  black  coffee  on  deck,  and 
lazily  smoking  and  talking.  Westbrook  was  deep  in  a  game 
of  chess  with  Von  Zedtwitz.  Phillips,  his  long  thin  legs 
curled  up,  half  lay  in  a  hammock,  humming  contentedly  to 
himself,  and  occasionally  reaching  out  a  hand  to  feel  for  his 
cup.  Mrs.  Hitchcock,  her  bonnet  awry  and  her  eyes  dan- 
cing with  mischief,  was  pretending  to  tell  Wicks's  fortune 
by  his  hand.  The  air  was  somnolent  with  heat.  The  drone 
of  a  concertina  was  wafted  from  the  forecastle.  Under  the 
lee  of  the  galley,  his  bread  marshaled  and  about  to  rise, 
Hildebrand  was  sleeping  the  sleep  of  the  just,  and  snoring 
melodiously.  A  profound  peace  had  settled  on  the  ship. 
The  moment  for  flight  had  come. 

332 


THE  ADVENTURER 

Kirk  slipped  away  first.  As  Vera,  a  minute  later,  rose 
quietly  to  follow,  her  father  fixed  her  with  his  gaze.  It  was 
so  formidable  that  she  faltered  and  stood  still.  But  ab- 
sorbed in  his  game  it  was  questionable  if  he  had  even  seen 
her.  It  was  a  stare  of  preoccupation,  blind  and  introspective. 

"  Check  king,"  he  said. 

She  waited  till  the  doctor  moved,  and  then,  as  her  father 
again  bent  his  head  to  the  board,  frowning  thoughtfully  and 
tugging  at  his  mustache,  she  mustered  up  all  her  courage 
and  walked  away. 

Kirk  was  waiting  for  her  a  dozen  steps  down  the  gang- 
way. Below  him  were  Crawshaw  and  Henderson  beside 
the  car,  looking  up  expectantly,  and  smiling  from  ear  to  ear. 
Vera  was  hurriedly  assisted  into  the  seat  beside  the  former. 
Kirk  clambered  up  behind.  Henderson  turned  over  the  en- 
gine, and  jumped  in  beside  him.  There  was  a  grinding  sound 
of  gears,  a  leap  forward,  and  they  were  off. 

They  sped  over  the  plain  like  an  arrow.  The  air  beat 
deliciously  against  their  faces  and  roared  loudly  past  their 
ears.  The  powerful  car,  vibrating  with  an  untamed  vigor, 
flung  itself  forward  with  an  impetuosity  that  brought  the 
heart  to  the  mouth.  At  times,  intoxicated  with  motion, 
Crawshaw  opened  the  throttle  and  seemed  to  shoot  them  into 
space — easing  down  again  in  sudden  terror  for  his  springs. 
Behind  him,  holding  on  for  dear  life,  Kirk  snatched  fleeting 
glimpses  of  the  Fortuna,  and  watched  her  diminish  in  their 
wake.  There  was  no  sign  of  animation  on  board  of  her. 
All  was  lifeless  and  still.  Her  slanting  masts  quivered  in 
the  heat,  and  her  long  awnings  drooped  over  the  recumbent 
figures  below.  Westbrook  had  not  detected  their  escape. 

But  as  he  looked  back  he  could  not  resist  a  certain  un- 
easiness as  to  his  own  conduct  in  the  matter.  He  almost 
regretted  that  he  had  not  faced  up  to  Westbrook  and  boldly 

338 


THE   ADVENTURER 

demanded  as  a  right  that  which  he  was  now  taking  by  sub- 
terfuge. But  such  a  course,  successful  as  it  was  sure  to  be, 
would  have  been  at  the  sacrifice  of  Vera.  And  after  all 
her  longing  to  see  Cassaquiari  was  not  a  whit  behind  his  own. 
He  was  not  the  first  man  who  had  paltered  with  his  con- 
science and  put  his  honor  in  jeopardy  to  please  the  woman 
he  loved.  Not  that  he  put  the  blame  on  her — God  forbid — 
but  he  had  a  sudden,  piercing  realization  that  they  were 
doing  wrong,  and  might  have  to  pay  too  bitter  a  penalty  for 
their  escapade. 

He  tried  to  nerve  himself  to  stop  Crawshaw.  He  felt 
a  singular  tremor  of  alarm  to  see  the  ship  dwindling  so  fast 
behind  him.  The  immensity  and  loneliness  of  the  scene  scared 
him  with  a  sense  of  an  evaded  responsibility.  What  was  he 
doing?  What  was  he  risking?  Good  Heavens!  his  rash 
project  verged  on  the  disloyal,  the  dishonorable.  But  shame 
— the  thought  of  Vera's  disappointment — a  sort  of  embar- 
rassment at  showing  indecision  before  his  subordinates — all 
withheld  the  order  on  his  lips.  Well,  he  was  in  for  it  now. 
It  was  too  late  to  draw  back.  And 

All  qualms  vanished  in  the  exhilaration  of  the  ride. 
Crawshaw  handled  the  car  superbly  and  knew  the  track 
like  the  palm  of  his  hand.  Just  as  one's  toes  crinkled  with 
the  expectation  of  landing  the  next  instant  in  eternity,  the 
brakes  would  squeal,  the  chassis  would  seem  to  bulge  up  in 
the  middle,  and  presto,  they  were  past  the  obstruction  and 
again  flying  like  the  wind. 

Little  by  little  the  gradients  increased;  turns  multiplied; 
the  backward  view  showed  how  swiftly  they  were  mounting. 
The  Fortuna  was  lost  altogether.  A  scrubby  vegetation  ap- 
peared ;  an  occasional  cactus ;  a  clump  of  bluish  aloes.  The 
fifteen-mile  post  whizzed  by. 

"Halfway!"  ejaculated  Crawshaw,  sizzling  round  a 
339 


THE  ADVENTURER 

precipice  that  hardly  allowed  them  a  foot  to  the  good.  It 
was  hair-raising  to  have  him  talk  when  he  ought  to  have 
concentrated  all  his  attention  on  his  steering.  But  he  would 
insist  on  exhaling  information  in  abrupt  sentences,  turning 
his  head  to  make  sure  that  Kirk  heard  him.  "  This  was  all 
blasted,  captain. — See  that  rock?  Dislodged  from  up  there 
and  came  down  like  an  express  train! — This  was  the  hard- 
est bridge  of  all. — Yes,  my  idea  to  build  it  out  and  strut  it 
from  beneath. — Oh,  it's  solid,  don't  worry! — Wait  till  you 
see  it  from  up  there,  and  it'll  make  you  dizzy,  though! — I 
was  let  down  on  a  rope,  Miss  Westbrook.  Yes,  swinging 
in  the  air  with  a  mallet  and  cold  chisel. — Well,  somebody 
had  to  do  it,  you  know." 

And  all  the  while,  at  a  pace  that  hardly  ever  relaxed, 
they  twisted  and  turned  on  their  upward  way.  Before  long 
they  met  Weaver  and  Haines,  who,  in  the  second  car,  had 
been  waiting  for  them  at  a  sort  of  siding.  The  engineer  ex- 
plained that  this  was  the  regular  point  for  the  cars  to  pass, 
thus  insuring  to  each  a  clear  road  in  either  direction.  Here 
there  was  a  short  parley  to  take  the  newcomers  into  the 
secret.  They  were  to  be  sure  and  keep  their  mouths  shut 
about  seeing  Kirk  and  Miss  Westbrook.  The  ex-jockey 
grinned  indulgently.  He  was  a  perky  little  man  with  a  puck- 
ered, fox-terrier  expression,  and  an  appearance  of  withered 
youthfulness. 

"  I  don't  blyme  you,"  he  said,  in  his  chipped  Cockneyese. 
"  It's  a  plyce  to  see,  and  no  mistyke  about  it.  It's  like  hav- 
ing the  British  Museum  set  out  in  the  grass,  and  the  first 
time  I  was  up  I  felt  like  arsking  for  a  check  for  my  um- 
brella! " 

Haines  gave  a  little  shiver. 

"  Anybody  may  have  it  for  me,  captain,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  Gad,  a  fellow's  all  the  time  turning  his  head  like  a  Zulu 

340 


THE   ADVENTURER 

was  going  to  jump  out  at  him  with  an  assegai,  and  as  for 
this  gold  business,  it's  about  as  gay  as  passing  coal  on  the 
orlop  deck." 

"  There's  human  nature  for  you,"  said  Crawshaw  con- 
temptuously, as  the  two  cars  parted  with  a  mutual  honk- 
honk  of  farewell.  '  Weaver,  he  has  to  have  his  cheap  little 
joke  and  make  game  of  the  place  with  his  umbrella  and  all 
that — the  sort  of  chap  who  would  snigger  in  heaven  and 
talk  about  the  clouds  being  damp  to  sit  on — and  Haines  is 
growling  because  the  gold  is  too  heavy,  and  making  it  out  a 
grievance  that  we  have  so  much  of  it !  Has  it  ever  occurred 
to  you,  Miss  Westbrook,  how  little  poetry  or  noble  feeling 
there  is  in  the  average  man  ?  " 

With  a  roguish  glance  at  Kirk,  Vera  expressed  her  pleas- 
ure in  Crawshaw's  implied  superiority. 

"  I  can't  tell  you  how  I  love  all  this,"  he  went  on  simply. 
"  I  try  not  to  let  it  become  common  to  me.  It's  so  easy  to 
get  used  to  things — the  familiarity  that  breeds  contempt, 
you  know.  It  makes  me  glad  that  you  are  to  see  Cassaquiari, 
too,  and  be  a  part  of  the  wonderful  memory  of  it.  What 
a  picture  you  will  make  in  all  that  grayness  and  oldness  and 
silence,  so  young  and  charming  in " 

It  was  a  sad  come-down  to  be  poked  in  the  back  and  told 
to  keep  his  eyes  on  the  road. 

"  You  will  sentimentalize  us  over  the  edge  if  you  aren't 
careful,"  cried  Kirk.  "  One  thing  at  a  time,  old  fellow." 

"  And  a  little  slower  on  the  curves,  if  you  wouldn't 
mind,  Mr.  Crawshaw,"  pleaded  Vera. 

The  man  of  sentiment  looked  hurt  and  relapsed  into  tac- 
iturnity. It  is  hard  to  be  a  poet,  embryo,  or  otherwise.  The 
bourgeois  mind  is  always  so  nervous  for  its  skin,  and  is  ca- 
pable of  shutting  up  Shakespeare  rather  than  take  chances  on 
a  cliff.  They  had  run  a  good  many  miles  before  the  engineer 

341 


THE   ADVENTURER 

recovered  his  usual  buoyancy  and  good  humor,  and  began  to 
expatiate  enthusiastically  about  a  place  they  were  nearing. 

"  We  call  it  the  lookout,"  he  said,  "  though  the  Inca's 
Chair  is  also  one  of  our  names  for  it.  From  there  we  can 
look  straight  down  to  the  Fortuna,  and  open  out  a  big  part 
of  the  road  we  have  been  coming  over.  If  it  isn't  the  finest 
view  you  ever  saw,  I'd  like  to  hear  the  name  of  any  that 
can  beat  it !  " 

They  were  soon  able  to  judge  for  themselves,  emerging 
from  the  shadow  of  rocks  and  trees,  to  attain,  with  delight- 
ful unexpectedness,  the  high,  bare  shoulder  of  the  moun- 
tain. Here  there  opened  before  them  an  unimpeded  view  of 
the  hills  and  valleys  that  separated  them  from  the  Fortuna, 
which,  far  below  on  the  carpet  of  the  plain,  lay  like  a  toy 
at  their  feet.  Crawshaw  stopped  the  engine  and  allowed 
them  to  gaze  without  interruption  at  the  panorama  unrolled 
before  them.  The  little  party  drew  together,  as  though  in 
the  desolation  and  immensity  of  the  scene  they  felt  an  in- 
stinctive need  of  close  human  companionship.  Kirk,  before 
in  his  life,  had  stood  on  higher  altitudes  and  looked  down 
on  scenes  no  less  spacious  and  noble;  but  these  had  been  in 
countries  where  other  men  lived,  where  a  roof,  a  terrace, 
or  some  sinuous  line  of  rails  had  softened  the  wild  and  un- 
tamed face  of  nature.  Here,  however,  in  the  untrodden  sol- 
itudes of  a  continent,  the  spirit  had  no  such  solace.  A  vast 
loneliness  oppressed  him,  a  profound  and  daunting  peace,  a 
crushing  sense  of  abandonment. 

For  the  first  time  he  appreciated  and  understood  how 
Westbrook,  more  imaginative  than  himself,  perhaps  than  any 
of  them,  had  allowed  a  not  unreasonable  fear  to  devour  him. 
For  a  moment  he  quailed  himself,  and  his  hand  on  Vera's 
turned  cold.  Thoughtlessness,  he  reflected,  is  the  commonest 
masquerade  of  courage.  Yes,  he  had  been  thoughtless;  he 

342 


THE  ADVENTURER 

had  not  before  realized  the  precariousness  of  their  situation  ; 
hundreds  of  miles  of  scorched  and  waterless  desert  divided 
them  from  all  help;  the  smallest  disaster  to  the  Fortuna 
might  easily  cost  them  all  their  lives.  He  had  a  vision  of 
bones  bleaching  in  the  sun;  of  sand  drifting  over  skulls  and 
skeletons;  of  a  fate  as  mysterious  and  unknown  to  the  living 
world  beyond  as  that  of  Ross  or  La  Perouse. 

He  exerted  himself  to  throw  off  this  somber  humor,  and 
so  far  succeeded  that  he  was  soon  laughing  and  talking  in 
complete  forgetfulness  of  his  obsession.  He  made  fun  of 
Henderson's  patched  trousers;  had  a  gay  altercation  with 
Crawshaw  as  to  the  difference  between  troy  and  avoirdu- 
pois weights;  and  with  many  a  little  jest  and  home  thrust, 
too  trivial  to  be  repeated,  reasserted  a  nature  that  could  not 
long  remain  clouded.  They  got  on  board  the  car  again  and, 
in  the  best  of  spirits,  proceeded  on  their  way. 

"  Only  three  miles  more,"  said  Crawshaw.  "  I  say,  Miss 
Westbrook,  if  you'll  lean  over  a  bit  you  can  get  a  peep  at 
the  Arc  de  Triomphe.  We  call  it  that  just  to  give  it  a  name, 
you  know.  Can't  make  it  out  ?  There,  follow  my  finger !  " 

Kirk  followed  the  finger,  too. 

Both  he  and  Vera  cried  out  with  a  simultaneous  exclama- 
tion. 

Rising  buttresslike  against  the  sky  was  a  mighty  arch, 
the  first  outpost  of  the  dead  city  beyond. 


343 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

URMURS  of  astonishment  rose  to  their  lips 
as  the  great  arch  loomed  into  closer  view. 
Colossal  and  solitary,  fantastically  carved 
with  hieroglyphs  whose  meaning  had  been  lost 
for  hundreds,  possibly  thousands  of  years,  it 
towered  toward  the  sky,  mysterious,  savage,  awe-inspiring.  To 
the  left  was  a  building  of  vast  extent,  and  of  the  same 
crumbling,  grayish  stone,  its  proportions  undiscernible  and 
lost  in  the  jungle  that  everywhere  hemmed  it  in;  that  broke 
through  massive  walls ;  that  with  snakelike  roots  pried  enor- 
mous blocks  of  masonry  asunder,  and  toppled  giant  pillars 
off  their  pediments.  One  hardly  knew  whether  more  to 
wonder  at  the  persistency  of  the  attack,  or  the  enduring 
obstinacy  of  the  defense.  The  latter  was  the  weaker  no 
doubt,  but  those  stupendous  frontages  of  stone  were  des- 
tined to  resist  for  many  a  century  yet  to  come,  and  by  sheer 
immensity  defy  the  inroads  of  all-destroying  nature. 

Above  them  could  be  seen  a  richly  carved  fagade,  its  bold 
and  primitive  design  of  a  singular  beauty,  ennobled  as  it  was 
by  the  hugeness  of  its  size,  and  the  inordinate  amount  of 
labor  that  had  been  lavished  on  its  execution.  The  eye  caught 
glimpses  of  interminable  galleries,  pillared  and  ghostly;  of 
terracelike  projections  tottering  crazily  in  the  azure;  of  shat- 
tered, undistinguishable  masses  of  stone,  tumbled  headlong 
into  debris.  There  were  other  buildings  frowning  down  at 
them,  as  enormous,  as  crumbling,  as  weird  as  the  one  they 
skirted.  These,  too,  teased  the  imagination  with  what  was 

344 


THE  ADVENTURER 

left  unseen.  There  seemed  no  ordered  arrangement  at  all 
— no  coherency.  They  rose  as  capriciously  as  rocks  from  the 
sea,  fortlike  and  grim,  in  a  wild  confusion  of  ruin,  but 
always  with  the  tantalizing  suggestion  that  much  was  with- 
held, was  hidden;  that  further  mysteries  lay  beyond;  that 
the  most  wonderful  of  all  was  awaiting  to  be  discovered. 
On  a  distant  hill  stood  a  pyramid,  flatter  than  any  Egyptian, 
and  with  a  roadway  spirally  creeping  around  its  sides.  The 
feet  tingled  to  mount  it,  to  stand  on  the  top.  One  longed 
to  plant  a  flag  there  and  leave  a  letter  in  a  bottle.  It  was 
surprising  to  hear  Crawshaw  say  that  none  had  reached  it, 
though  many  had  tried.  They  had  no  time  for  that  sort  of 
thing.  It  would  take  a  day  at  least,  so  dense  was  the  jungle, 
so  frightful  the  thorns  and  lianas.  No  time,  though  it  was 
hardly  more  than  a  mile  away. 

Vera  and  Kirk  had  talked  of  "  seeing  "  Cassaquiari !  See 
it,  indeed!  Why,  to  do  that  one  would  need  an  army  of 
laborers — machetes,  dynamite,  ladders,  a  permanent  camp, 
and  months  of  time.  Von  Zedtwitz,  perhaps,  in  the  years 
of  his  captivity,  had  got  some  comprehension  of  the  place  in 
his  head.  But  even  he  must  have  groped  like  a  man  in  the 
dark.  In  no  more  than  a  few  hours  what  could  one  do  ex- 
cept gaze  at  several  of  the  fagades,  peer  into  some  cavernous 
interiors,  trail  through  the  dense  undergrowth  on  a  search 
for  fresh  wonders,  with  the  possibility  of  getting  lost  beyond 
all  finding. 

As  the  automobile  impudently  broke  the  quiet,  its  exhaust 
echoing  with  startling  distinctness  and  shivering  the  stagnant 
air  with  an  incongruous  modernity,  Kirk  perceived  he  had 
come  on  an  impossible  errand.  He  would  carry  away  with 
him  no  more  than  a  blurred  memory  of  gloom,  grandeur, 
and  decay ;  a  haunting  recollection  of  cliff-like  f  agades,  mossy, 
bulging,  grotesquely  carved,  staring  down  at  him  over  in- 

345 


THE  ADVENTURER 

tervening  jungle;  and  an  undying  regret  to  have  to  content 
himself  with  so  little,  and  be  obliged  to  turn  back  on  the 
very  threshold. 

Guiding  the  car  with  a  sure,  deft  hand,  Crawshaw  drove 
it  forward  with  the  nonchalant  air  of  one  who  knew  every 
inch  of  the  road.  Adroitly  picking  his  way  round  mounds 
of  tumbled  masonry,  dipping  into  gullies,  and  opening  his 
throttle  on  the  rise,  shaving  with  a  fine  eye  trees  and  stumps 
and  rocks,  he  at  length  reached  the  entrance  of  the  building, 
rumbled  through  its  damp  and  tunnel-like  interior,  and  with 
much  winding  and  turning,  picked  a  diagonal  path  across 
the  courtyard  beyond,  to  the  arches  of  a  gray  and  devastated 
wing. 

Here,  as  they  came  to  a  stop,  were  seen  some  mean  evi- 
dences of  the  invasion.  A  twentieth-century  litter  lay  scat- 
tered on  a  stone  floor  whose  slabs  had  been  hewn  and  set,  as 
like  as  not,  some  centuries  before  our  Saviour's  birth:  picks 
and  axes,  an  array  of  smoky  lanterns,  coils  of  line  and  rope, 
a  can  of  kerosene,  some  broken  packages  of  dynamite,  sulphur 
matches,  an  old  overcoat,  a  tin  basin,  towel  and  cake  of  soap, 
a  smeary  drum  of  cylinder  oil  stoppered  with  a  small  funnel, 
dirty  gunny  sacks,  a  bucket  of  water.  Crawshaw  and  Hen- 
derson jumped  down,  and  without  waste  of  time,  and  as 
though  following  an  invariable  routine  began  to  light  some 
of  the  lanterns,  shaking  them  to  see  if  they  were  full. 

"  Of  course  you  will  want  to  come  down  with  me,  cap- 
tain," said  Crawshaw,  picking  up  a  sack,  and  eyeing  Vera 
doubtfully.  "  But  if  it  is  too  much  for  Miss  Westbrook  to 
attempt  we'll  leave  Henderson  behind  to  stay  with  her." 

"Oh,  I  don't  want  to  be  left  out!"  cried  Vera.  "I 
wouldn't  miss  it  for  anything !  " 

The  engineer  demurred. 

"  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  do  it,"  he  said. 
346 


THE  ADVENTURER 

"  And  them  bats — "  put  in  Henderson,  not  unwilling  to 
pile  up  the  terrors. 

The  girl  screwed  up  her  courage. 

"  I'm  not  afraid  of  b-bats,"  she  protested.  "  They 
don't  do  anything  to  you,  do  they?  Bite  or ?  " 

"  Only  flop,"  said  Crawshaw  reassuringly. 

"  Flop,  that's  all,"  said  Kirk. 

"  Just  flop,"  explained  Henderson. 

"  Well,  let  them  flop,"  exclaimed  Vera  bravely,  "  and  if 
they  s-stick  to  me,  you'll  pull  them  off  quick,  won't  you,  Kirk, 
dear?" 

"  Indeed,  I  will." 

"  But  they  don't  stick,"  said  Crawshaw. 

"  Never  heard  of  them  sticking,"  added  Henderson. 

"  Mayn't  I  have  a  sack  ?  "  inquired  Kirk.  "  No  reason 
why  I  shouldn't  bear  a  hand,  too,  is  there?  Don't  make 
company  of  me,  boys!  " 

"  All  right,  take  that  one,  captain." 

"  And  I,  too !  "  cried  Vera,  her  eyes  dancing  with  pleas- 
ure. "Sacks  of  treasure — just  think  of  it!  Crammed  full 
of  bars  of  gold  like  a  person  in  a  melodrama!  Oh,  Kirk, 
isn't  it  wonderful?  " 

"  Banks  will  seem  tame  after  this,"  he  replied  gayly. 
"  You  don't  have  to  be  identified  here,  and  you  draw  what 
you  can  carry!  " 

Now  that  Cassaquiari  was  no  longer  a  name,  but  an 
astonishing  and  fascinating  fact,  and  the  full  perception  of 
their  extraordinary  good  fortune  came  home  to  him,  he  was 
hardly  able  to  contain  himself.  He  seized  the  lantern  Craw- 
shaw had  given  him,  threw  the  sack  over  one  shoulder,  and 
impatiently  demanded  to  be  led  on. 

They  proceeded  in  single  file,  Crawshaw  leading,  Hen- 
derson and  Kirk  in  the  center,  Vera  last — entering  a  dim  cor- 
23  347 


THE   ADVENTURER 

ridor  whose  twilight  gradually  turned  to  darkness  as  they 
advanced.  Behind  them,  through  the  jagged  aperture  Von 
Zedtwitz  had  discovered  and  broken  open  so  many  years 
before,  the  streaming  sunlight  diminished  to  a  speck  of  fire. 
The  lanterns,  at  first  so  feeble,  grew  steadily  brighter.  The 
pin  point  of  day  vanished  as  the  gallery  turned,  narrowed,  and 
sank  deeper  into  the  rocky  depths.  The  footfalls  of  the  little 
party  reverberated  with  a  hollow,  mournful  sound,  giving 
the  sense  of  hundreds  softly  marching  before  and  after  them 
in  an  unending  tramp. 

The  air  was  peculiarly  lifeless,  as  though  scant  of  oxygen 
and  contaminated  with  poisonous  exhalations.  It  was  hard 
to  resist  the  conviction  that  the  vaulted  roof  might  at  any 
moment  give  way — either  to  crush  them  beneath  untold  tons 
of  rock,  or,  falling  behind  them,  block  their  exit  forever. 
That  this  dread  was  not  altogether  chimerical  was  proved 
by  several  places  where  they  had  to  crawl  on  their  hands 
and  knees  over  masses  of  fallen  rubble,  or  squeeze  past  dis- 
lodged bowlders,  leaving  between  them  and  their  retreat 
obstacles  that  in  retrospect  grew  increasingly  formidable  and 
terrifying,  as  though  door  after  door  had  closed  behind  them, 
and  the  bolts  drawn  on  a  living  tomb. 

The  gallery  ended  in  a  lofty  chamber  of  vague  and  un- 
known extent.  The  upraised  hand  touched  nothing,  and 
the  voice  reechoed  with  richer  vibrations.  Crawshaw  warned 
them  to  walk  carefully,  and  led  them  to  a  sort  of  square  well 
in  the  center.  Here  some  steps  descended  into  a  void  of 
impenetrable  blackness — narrow,  slimy,  stone  steps,  not  two 
feet  across,  on  one  side  hugging  the  wall,  on  the  other  un- 
protected by  rope  or  railing.  Kirk  peered  into  the  gloom 
over  Crawshaw's  shoulder.  The  little  engineer  started 
briskly  to  descend,  but  was  suddenly  arrested  by  an  iron  grip 
on  his  arm. 

348 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  hold  on  a  minute!  "  cried  Kirk.  "  I 
want  to  know  where  this  thing  stops." 

"  At  the  bottom,"  returned  Crawshaw,  grinning  at  his 
own  repartee,  and  enjoying  the  captain's  undiluted  alarm. 

"  Great  Scott,  and  where's  that?  " 

"  Stay  here  and  I'll  show  you,"  he  said.  "  It  reaches 
what  we  call  the  main  level  about  forty  feet  below.  I'll 
light  you  from  down  there,  and  Henderson  from  the  top, 
and  then  you  can  see  your  way  without  trouble." 

Man  and  lantern  descended  into  the  abyss.  At  the  foot 
there  was  a  wild  flurry  of  bats,  and  a  vision  of  flapping 
black  wings,  ribbed  and  skinny,  flung  hither  and  thither  by 
the  swirl  of  the  engineer's  lantern.  Its  light  danced  over 
the  cavernous  entrances  of  more  underground  passages,  and 
was  reflected  in  pools  of  water  that  partly  concealed  the 
floor.  The  thought  of  following  cost  Kirk  a  shudder.  Vera, 
too,  was  clinging  to  him  as  though  she  had  reached  the  limits 
of  her  courage,  and  was  on  the  point  of  giving  way  to  un- 
controllable fear.  It  was  Henderson,  more  than  Kirk,  who 
rescued  her  from  a  shameful  panic. 

"  Don't  tak'  on,  young  leddy,"  he  said  with  kindly  con- 
cern. "  It's  always  the  way  with  those  new  to  it  to  balk 
here,  and  wish  to  gie  back  as  fast  as  may  be.  It's  but  a 
passing  qualm,  and  ye  ought  to  know  we've  all  felt  it,  even 
them  that's  now  so  bold  and  venturesome." 

His  voice  itself  was  as  reassuring  as  the  words  he  ut- 
tered. There  was  not  a  shade  of  nervousness  in  that  broad 
drawl.  Merely  a  sympathetic  matter-of-factness  that  was 
infinitely  encouraging. 

"  Aren't  you  coming?  "  cried  Crawshaw  from  the  depths. 

"  Do  you  dare  ?  "  whispered  Kirk. 

Vera  assented  tremblingly. 

"  If  you  like  we'll " 

349 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  No,  no,  Kirk ;  only  hold  my  hand  tight,  won't  you  ?  " 
He  went  in  front  of  her  and  cautiously  guided  her  down 
the  treacherous  steps.  Henderson,  hanging  over  the  edge 
above,  slowly  swung  his  lantern  to  and  fro.  At  the  foot  was 
Crawshaw  holding  up  his.  The  descent  was  safely  made, 
and  they  found  themselves  in  an  atmosphere  of  penetrating 
cold  and  damp.  An  unwholesome  moisture  bedewed  the 
walls,  and,  oozing  from  a  myriad  pores,  trickled  to  the  floor 
where  it  gathered  in  dismal  pools.  The  blackness  seemed  to 
grow  more  profound,  more  intense,  and  the  glimmering  lan- 
terns were  shrouded  in  an  inky  pall  that  closed  on  them  like 
something  tangible.  Their  feet  splashed  in  unseen  water 
and  stumbled  over  obstructions  that  disconcertingly  blocked 
their  way.  It  was  a  nightmare  of  slime  and  wet  and  dark- 
ness; of  groping  and  falling;  of  sudden  starts  and  terrors. 
All  sense  of  direction  was  lost.  They  mounted.  They 
descended.  It  was  a  labyrinth  without  end  or  beginning. 
At  times  the  rocky  ceiling  almost  touched  their  heads;  at 
others  their  outstretched  hands  closed  on  air,  and  it  was  as 
though  they  were  passing  through  the  vast  aisles  of  a  sub- 
terranean cathedral.  Crawshaw  would  have  stopped  to  eluci- 
date these  mysteries,  and  perkily  show  them  some  of  the 
hidden  wonders,  but  they  urged  him  on  with  a  vehemence 
that  sprang  from  desperation.  His  willingness  to  strike 
aside,  to  abandon  what  was  apparently  the  main  thorough- 
fare, for  radiating  catacombs,  to  lose  them  still  further  in 
the  horrible  maze,  froze  their  blood.  The  little  man  was 
proud  of  his  knowledge,  and  insistent  to  put  it  at  their  dis- 
posal. He  stepped  out  as  surely  as  though  the  sun  were 
shining  overhead,  and  his  eyes  actually  saw  the  things  he 
described.  But  Kirk  and  Vera  could  not  be  tempted.  They 
never  put  foot  in  the  famous  arsenal,  where  in  serried  thou- 
sands the  primitive  arms  were  said  to  be  ranged.  They 

350 


THE  ADVENTURER 

turned  deaf  ears  likewise  to  his  wish  to  detain  them  in  the 
store  chambers,  and  explore  their  musty  recesses.  They  never 
tasted  the  ancient  honey,  nor  shivered,  with  the  pressure  of 
a  ringer,  those  chests  that  fell  to  dust  at  the  merest  breath. 

Kirk  was  on  fire  to  finish  with  the  whole  adventure.  He 
bitterly  took  himself  to  task  for  ever  having  led  his  sweet- 
heart into  it.  He  was  oppressed  by  the  darkness,  the  chok- 
ing air,  the  hideous  possibilities  of  disaster.  His  heart  beat 
quickly  and  his  brain  was  in  a  whirl  of  apprehension.  What 
would  happen  if  the  oil  gave  out?  If  Crawshaw  were  to 
lose  his  way,  and  suddenly  confess  with  horror  he  knew  not 
how  to  extricate  them?  What  if  they  were  left,  without 
light  or  food  or  water,  to  face  a  lingering  and  dreadful 
death  in  those  underground  caverns?  He  tried  to  put  these 
thoughts  from  him,  to  affect  the  tourist-like  interest  Craw- 
shaw seemed  to  demand,  but  it  was  in  vain.  He  could  do 
neither.  His  one  consuming  desire  was  for  the  free  air  of 
heaven. 

At  length  they  stopped. 

"  Here  we  are!  "  cried  the  engineer,  raising  his  lantern 
to  look  at  his  watch.  "  How  long  do  you  suppose  it  has 
taken  us,  captain  ?  " 

Kirk  hazarded  an  hour.  Vera,  on  being  pressed,  faintly 
guessed  a  half  more. 

Crawshaw  burst  out  laughing. 

"  Seventeen  minutes,"  he  said. 

Kirk,  incredulous,  confirmed  the  extraordinary  fact  with 
his  own  timepiece. 

"  It's  an  illusion,"  went  on  Crawshaw.  "  It's  hard  to 
account  for.  You  are  closer  within  the  mark  than  most  of 
them.  I've  known  them  to  say  three  hours." 

Snapping  his  watch  shut,  and  bidding  them  remain  where 
they  were,  he  took  a  dozen  steps  from  them,  and  bending 

351 


THE  ADVENTURER 

down,  was  seen  to  fumble  with  a  small  apparatus  on  a  wooden 
box.  Then  he  struck  a  match  and  held  it  to  what  was 
apparently  an  acetylene  gas-burner.  There  was  a  tiny  flicker, 
a  sound  of  escaping  air,  and  two  dancing  specks  of  flame 
swelled  into  one  and  suddenly  rose  in  a  little  fan.  The 
effect  was  dazzling  in  the  extreme  to  eyes  grown  accus- 
tomed to  obscurity.  They  found  themselves  standing  in  a 
high  and  brilliantly  illuminated  chamber,  some  thirty  feet 
square  and  a  dozen  high,  with  every  nook  and  cranny  of  it 
bared  to  view.  The  first  feeling  of  astonishment  gave  way 
to  unspeakable  relief.  The  long-drawn  tension  snapped. 
They  could  hardly  take  in  what  Crawshaw  was  saying.  He 
wished  to  have  his  improvised  generator  admired,  his  in- 
genuity applauded ;  they  could  see  for  themselves  it  consisted 
of  nothing  more  than  an  old  meat  can,  with  a  seepage  of 
water  through  a  core  of  unglazed  earthenware.  Buzz, 
buzz — carbide — tubing — pickle  jar — capillary  attraction — 
and  spectacles  shining  with  naive  self-satisfaction. 

But  there  were  more  exciting  things  to  exclaim  over.  On 
one  side,  methodically  stacked  against  the  wall,  was  an  array 
of  dark,  moldy,  familiar-looking  bars,  built  up  in  a  criss- 
cross fashion  sixteen  inches  or  so  above  the  floor.  The  in- 
roads already  made  upon  the  treasure  were  apparent  in  the 
moss  and  discoloration  that  rose,  not  unlike  a  sort  of  wain- 
scoting, to  a  much  greater  height,  clearly  defining  a  recent 
line  of  demarcation.  But  enough  still  remained,  a  fraction 
though  it  was  of  the  original  hoard,  to  constitute  a  fortune 
running  into  many  hundreds  of  thousands.  Crawshaw  made 
an  offhand  estimate  of  three  quarters  of  a  million  dollars, 
and  lifting  up  one  of  the  bars  gloatingly  caressed  it. 

"  It  doesn't  take  many  of  these  to  make  a  fellow  happy," 
he  said,  in  ecstasy;  and  he  rubbed  the  dirty  metal  against 
his  cheek,  his  lips,  fondling  it  like  a  babe. 

352 


THE  ADVENTURER 

Kirk  and  Vera,  in  fascinated  silence,  gazed  at  the  ingots 
that  had  lain  thus  lost  and  forgotten  for  incalculable  years. 
To  touch  them  was  as  though  to  bridge  the  chasm  of  cen- 
turies and  close  hands  with  the  phantoms  of  the  past.  Even 
in  that  far-off  time  gold  had  been  the  symbol  of  all  that  was 
precious  and  desirable.  Ease  could  be  purchased  with  it — 
pretty  women,  luxury,  power — palaces  and  slaves.  The  for- 
tunate were  esteemed  those  who  could  find  it,  who  could 
take  it,  who  could  keep  it.  The  ages  had  rolled  over  this 
vanished  people,  and  the  mocking  emblem  for  which  they 
had  struggled,  schemed,  and  fought  alone  survived  them. 
At  what  a  cost  of  human  misery  it  had  doubtless  been  gath- 
ered together!  What  countless  backs,  bleeding  under  the 
lash,  had  won  it  of  mother  earth !  What  wars,  what  crimes, 
what  tortures  had  not  the  amassing  of  it  involved!  Gold! 
the  immemorial  curse,  the  immemorial  incentive  of  all 
human  activity — where  can  you  find  the  least  piece  of  it  that 
is  not  splashed  with  blood! 

Crawshaw  and  Henderson  loaded  their  bags.  Kirk,  in 
a  sort  of  maze,  followed  their  example.  It  all  made  for  him 
an  ineffaceable  picture — the  sunken  chamber;  the  ingots;  the 
white,  intent  faces ;  Vera's  slender  figure  so  incongruous  and 
beautiful  against  the  dank  stone;  the  blinding  fan  of  flame 
fed  from  a  tin  can  still  bearing  a  Chicago  label — ineffaceable, 
indeed,  and  destined  to  haunt  his  dreams  for  many  a  night 
to  come. 

Crawshaw  extinguished  the  gas,  and  as  he  did  so  the 
scene  vanished  forever.  The  dull  gleam  of  the  lanterns 
hardly  more  than  sufficed  to  light  their  feet,  and  they  were 
again  ingulfed  in  an  all-pervading  night.  In  single  file,  the 
men  bending  under  their  sacks,  they  began  to  retrace  their 
way  and  follow  out  the  tortuous  passages  through  which 
they  had  originally  come. 

353 


THE   ADVENTURER 

It  was  as  eerie  a  progress  as  the  one  before,  as  ghostly 
and  full  of  tremors.  The  rock  seemed  to  crush  them  in 
as  though  with  an  intolerable  weight.  They  were  entombed ; 
the  coffin  lid  was  descending;  they  were  suffocating  in  a 
horrible,  clammy  darkness.  Such  at  least,  as  nearly  as  can  be 
put  into  words,  were  the  sensations  that  no  amount  of  will- 
power could  altogether  dispel.  The  best  that  resolution 
could  do  was  to  keep  them  at  bay,  and  coerce  the  shrinking 
flesh  with  appeals  to  reason,  to  sanity.  Courage  only  re- 
turned as  they  mounted  the  side  of  the  well,  and  found  them- 
selves on  the  upper  level.  Instantly  their  hearts  lightened; 
the  air  grew  less  oppressive ;  the  rays  of  their  lanterns  seemed 
to  penetrate  a  greater  distance  and  bathe  the  party  in  an 
increased  effulgence.  It  became  possible  for  the  first  time 
to  talk  and  laugh  with  unconcern,  to  throw  aside  all  appre- 
hensions, to  regard  the  whole  adventure  as  already  finished. 

Indeed  it  almost  was.  A  few  minutes  more  and  they 
might  expect  to  see  the  crack  of  sunshine  at  the  end  of  the 
last  tunnel.  They  redoubled  their  pace.  It  was  good  to 
think  of  the  daylight  beyond,  and  of  the  fresh  wonders  await- 
ing them.  Crawshaw  promised  them  a  stay  of  two  hours 
more,  and  was  himself  to  be  their  guide.  They  were  to 
climb  to  the  very  top  of  the  building,  exploring  it  as  they 
went,  and  then  look  down  on  the  entire  city.  As  yet  they 
had  only  seen  a  tithe  of  it — had  merely  guessed  at  the  num- 
ber and  vastness  of  its  ruins.  But  he  would  give  them  a 
bird's-eye  view  of  the  whole;  he  would  lead  them  out  on  a 
certain  ledge  if  they  had  the  daring  to  follow ;  he  would 

His  eager  voice  was  silenced  by  a  long,  low  rumble,  so 
faint,  so  mysterious,  that  it  was  impossible  to  detect  from 
what  direction  it  came. 

The  little  party  halted  instinctively  and  drew  closer 
together. 

354 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  It's  thunder,"  said  Crawshaw,  straining  his  ears.  "  Yes, 
it's  thunder!  " 

The  rumbling  died  down. 

They  went  on,  slowly  and  uneasily,  whispering  con- 
jectures. Perhaps  it  was  a  landslide.  Or  could  one  of  the 
galleries  behind  them  have  fallen  in? 

"  Hush !  "  cried  Kirk  suddenly.     "  There  it  goes  again." 

The  rumbling  recommenced,  dully  and  fitfully. 

"  It's  thunder,"  persisted  the  engineer,  petulant  with  mis- 
giving. 

"  Hardly  likely  on  a  day  like  this,"  said  Henderson. 
"  Why,  there  wasn't  a  cloud  in  the  sky." 

"Well,  it  has  to  be  thunder,  for  there  is  nothing  else 
it  can  be,"  exclaimed  Crawshaw  sharply. 

"  I  am  not  so  sure,"  put  in  Kirk.  "  I'm  not  sure  at 
all  that  it  is  thunder." 

Then,  raising  his  lantern,  he  looked  the  others  squarely 
in  the  face. 

"  Crawshaw,"  he  cried,  "  those  are  the  machine  guns 
of  the  Fortunal  " 


355 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

OR  a  moment  they  were  too  stunned  to  move. 
Then  flinging  down  their  sacks  they  began 
to  run,  urging  one  another  to  a  frantic  haste. 
The  reverberation  of  their  feet  on  the  stony 
floor  drowned  all  other  sound.  The  consum- 
ing thought  was  to  reach  the  open  air  and  verify  Kirk's  ter- 
rible surmise.  If  it  were  the  guns  it  meant  that  the  ship 
was  beset  and  fighting  for  her  life.  It  meant  that  their  own 

retreat  was  cut  off.    It  meant 

They  redoubled  their  pace,  encouraged  by  the  sight  of 
the  opening.  The  twilight  made  their  lanterns  no  longer 
necessary,  and  they  dashed  them  aside  to  smoke  and  splinter 
where  they  fell.  Kirk  loosened  the  revolver  in  his  holster 
and  warned  the  others  to  do  the  same.  They  knew  not 
what  they  might  find  outside,  and  it  was  well  to  be  ready 
for  the  worst.  As  they  darted  into  the  open,  and  gathered, 
panting  and  breathless,  about  the  car,  the  boom  of  the  dis- 
tant guns  broke  with  unmistakable  meaning  on  their  ears, 
rolling  and  re-rolling  with  a  harsh,  furious  splutter  that 
told  of  a  desperate  battle  below. 

No  time  was  lost  in  taking  counsel  or  making  plans. 
Crawshaw  started  up  his  engine  and  they  were  off  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye,  with  a  headlong  rush  that  tossed  caution 
to  the  winds;  Vera  beside  the  engineer;  Kirk  huddled  on 
the  floor  at  her  feet,  his  long  forty-four  glistening  across 
his  knee;  Henderson  standing  up  behind,  his  tall  figure 
swaying  with  every  lurch  of  the  car,  his  face  set  and  grim, 

356 


THE  ADVENTURER 

as  he  stared  unblinkingly  in  front  of  him,  overtopping 
them  all. 

They  shot  down  the  track  at  a  lightning  pace,  with  a 
grind  of  brakes  at  the  turns,  and  skids  that  threatened  to 
pare  the  tires  off  the  rims.  Crawshaw  handled  her  like  a 
racer,  which  meant  he  took  his  own  life  in  his  hands,  and 
forgot  that  the  others  had  any  to  lose.  But  fast  as  he  went 
the  straining  hearts  he  bore  wished  for  faster  still,  and 
voices  shouted  to  him  madly  to  let  her  out.  Every  second 
was  unendurable  that  kept  them  from  the  lookout  point. 
To  get  there,  and  see  what  was  taking  place  below,  was  the 
one  dominating  thought.  No  speed  was  swift  enough,  and 
in  a  delirium  of  recklessness  they  called  for  more,  more, 
more. 

They  tore  like  a  whirlwind  down  the  last  stretch,  and 
ran  out  on  the  shoulder  of  the  mountain  as  though  to  bound 
over  the  precipice  beyond.  The  brakes,  set  hard,  failed  to 
bring  the  car  to  a  standstill,  and  the  metal  screeched  shrilly 
as  she  glided,  with  barely  checked  momentum,  toward  the 
yawning  brink.  Had  not  Crawshaw  meshed  his  reverse  in 
the  very  nick  of  time  they  would  have  all  plunged  into 
eternity.  But  they  had  no  time  to  commend  him,  nor  to 
shudder  at  the  narrowness  of  their  escape.  Their  eyes  were 
fixed  on  the  Fortuna  far  below,  and  her  plight,  now  start- 
lingly  visible,  engrossed  their  whole  and  undivided  attention. 

She  was  bearing  away  under  full  sail,  hotly  pursued  on 
either  flank  by  black,  seething  masses  of  mounted  savages. 
Flame  was  spitting  from  her  sides,  and  the  air  was  rent  by 
sharp,  low  detonations  that  rose  and  fell  irregularly  like  the 
popping  of  distant  crackers.  The  wind,  though  steady,  was 
far  from  strong.  The  horsemen  easily  kept  pace  with  the 
ship,  and  occasionally  some  even  outran  her,  and  attempted 
to  head  her  off  as  they  might  a  wild  bull.  But  the  Fortuna 

357 


THE   ADVENTURER 

drove  into  them  with  resistless  force,  and  her  wheels  jolted 
over  human  bodies  that  failed  to  escape  in  time,  or  were 
shot  down  from  the  foremast  rigging  as  they  turned  to 
fly.  At  first  sight  it  seemed  a  most  unequal  contest,  with 
everything  in  favor  of  the  whites.  But  the  pertinacity 
of  the  savages,  their  fanatical  resolution,  their  enormous 
numbers,  unthinned  and  undismayed  by  that  hail  of  death 
— all  shook  the  confidence  of  the  onlookers  as  to  the  ulti- 
mate outcome,  and  conjured  up  a  horrible  premonition  of 
disaster. 

These  wolves  of  the  llano,  individually  so  harmless,  with 
nothing  but  bows  and  arrows,  spears,  and  an  occasional  flint- 
lock to  oppose  to  smokeless  powder  and  steel-tipped  bullets, 
were  in  the  mass  a  most  formidable  enemy,  and  terrible  to 
withstand.  They  were  capable  of  beating  down  all  resistance 
by  sheer  weight  and  intrepidity,  even  as  the  Dervishes  so 
nearly  turned  the  day  at  Omdurman.  As  Kirk  gazed  down 
at  that  tornado  of  battle,  he  was  staggered  to  see  how  slight 
an  impression,  after  all,  the  Fortuna  was  able  to  make  on  the 
dark  sea  encompassing  her.  Her  guns  mowed  down  wide 
swaths  of  men  and  horses ;  they  fell  as  trimly  as  grass  before 
a  scythe;  but  the  shattered  ranks  refilled,  the  scythe  cut 
and  cut  apparently  in  vain;  the  swarming  horde  neither 
slackened  its  pursuit,  nor  showed,  in  the  aggregate,  the 
smallest  lessening  of  numbers. 

Had  the  breeze  freshened,  which,  alas!  it  showed  no 
sign  of  doing,  the  tactics  of  the  previous  conflict  might  have 
been  repeated  with  terrific  advantage.  The  ship  might  then 
have  been  put  about,  and  her  vast  bulk  utilized  to  tear  re- 
peated pathways  through  her  enemies  and  grind  untold  num- 
bers beneath  her  wheels.  But  what  wind  there  was  hardly 
sufficed  to  keep  her  moving  at  more  than  six  or  seven  knots 
an  hour — a  speed  prohibitive  of  all  such  tactics — and  thus 

358 


THE   ADVENTURER 

her  most  powerful  weapon,  her  mobility,  was  unfortunately 
unavailable. 

But  more  alarming  than  anything  was  the  unaccountable 
confusion  that  seemed  to  reign  on  board  of  her.  The  firing 
became  fitful  and  unsteady.  Several  times  she  yawed  wildly, 
and  narrowly  escaped  gybing.  Tiny  figures  could  be  seen 
slipping  down  the  rigging  seemingly  abandoning  their  posts 
in  a  panic.  The  machine  guns  stopped  altogether,  though 
a  persistent  rifle  fire  could  be  plainly  heard,  and  with  it  a 
faint,  muffled  sound  of  undistinguishable  import.  Could  it 
be  cheering?  But  the  wake  showed  no  signs  of  increased 
slaughter.  On  the  contrary  the  dribble  of  bodies  nearly 
ceased,  and  the  melancholy  ribbon  of  them,  stretching  far 
across  the  plain,  began  to  widen  with  great  gaps — significant 
and  ominous  portent  of  an  ebbing  resistance. 

Suddenly  she  wore  ship,  and  the  maneuver  opened  her 
broadside  to  view.  Then  was  learned  the  reason  of  her 
apparent  abandonment  of  the  fight.  Her  forecastle  was 
black  with  men,  and  a  hand-to-hand  battle  was  taking  place 
on  her  forward  deck.  The  savages  had  gained  a  foothold 
on  her  bow,  and  were  obstinately  holding  their  own,  while, 
with  ropes  lowered  over  the  side  their  numbers  were  con- 
stantly reenforced  from  below.  Figures  could  be  seen  strug- 
gling frantically  to  clamber  aboard;  helping  hands  were 
reached  out  to  them;  occasionally  one  would  fall  back  into 
the  boiling,  swirling  mass  from  which  he  had  arisen.  It 
was  impossible  to  guess  how  the  fight  was  going.  Axes 
sparkled  in  the  sun  as  brawny  arms  swung  them  high ;  rifles 
cracked;  pistols  rained  incessant  bullets;  bayonets  stabbed 
out  murderously.  But  the  savages  seemed  not  to  give  an 
inch,  grappling  with  the  whites  like  beasts,  tearing  at  their 
throats,  wresting  their  weapons  from  them,  dragging  them 
down  to  the  blood-stained  deck  in  frenzied  efforts  to  strangle 

359 


THE   ADVENTURER 

or  club  them.  About  the  foremast  was  the  deadliest  focus 
of  the  battle;  and  the  great  stick  towered  like  a  standard, 
under  which  the  whites  rallied  and  reformed  their  broken 
ranks.  On  what  a  pandemonium  of  noise  and  horror  it 
looked  down!  On  what  convulsed  faces,  on  what  writhing, 
trampled  forms,  on  what  a  swaying,  raging  line  of  black 
men  and  white,  rolling  furiously  back  and  forth  in  a  shambles 
of  blood! 

The  battle,  like  some  wild  sea  squall,  drove  steadily  to 
leeward.  The  Fortuna  dwindled  into  the  immeasurable  ex- 
panse. The  reverberations  lessened;  her  decks  grew  indis- 
tinct; the  galloping  savages  shrank  to  a  mere  stain  on  the 
red-brown  earth.  The  issue  was  lost  on  the  dark  rim  of 
the  horizon,  from  which  nothing  emerged  but  the  upper 
spars  and  the  lofty  kites  still  full  of  wind.  Thus  she  melted 
into  the  uttermost  haze,  a  feather  against  the  sky  line,  a 
speck,  the  mystery  of  her  fate  still  unknown  as  she  passed 
from  sight,  perhaps  forever. 

In  the  intensity  of  his  preoccupation  Kirk  had  completely 
forgotten  himself  and  the  others  with  him.  He  awoke  from 
a  sort  of  dream  and,  trembling  in  every  limb,  drew  his 
hand  across  a  forehead  wet  with  sweat.  For  a  moment  he 
was  absolutely  unmanned.  Vera  had  sunk  to  the  ground 
beside  him,  and  her  shoulders  shook  with  an  occasional  sob- 
bing breath  that  quavered  like  a  child's.  Crawshaw  was 
seated  on  the  step  of  the  automobile,  staring  into  vacancy 
with  a  look  of  unspeakable  despair.  Henderson  lay  on  the 
track,  his  face  hidden  by  his  arm,  as  though  for  him  the 
world  had  ended  and  he  realized  the  helplessness  of  any 
further  effort. 

Kirk  put  his  arm  about  Vera  and  drew  her  up.  He 
pressed  her  close  to  him  with  a  tragic  pity.  He  kissed  her 
as  he  might  on  the  edge  of  the  grave  with  the  tenderness 

360 


THE   ADVENTURER 

and  poignancy  of  an  eternal  farewell.  His  warm  lips  seemed 
to  break  the  spell  that  benumbed  her.  She  clung  to  him, 
clasping  her  hands  about  his  neck,  and  giving  way  to  an  un- 
controllable emotion.  His  cheeks  were  wet  with  her  tears ;  her 
slender,  girlish  body  nestled  against  him,  solaced  by  the  sense 
of  his  strength  and  courage  and  resolution — and,  as  is  the 
way  of  woman — calling  them  all  into  being  by  her  very 
faith  in  their  existence. 

Soothed  and  comforted  she  gradually  recovered  some  de- 
gree of  composure;  and  though  still  deadly  pale,  and  at 
times  quivering  with  violent  tremors,  she  managed,  with 
the  help  of  Kirk's  supporting  arm,  to  totter  over  to  Craw- 
shaw  and  take  a  seat  beside  him  on  the  long  step.  The  little 
engineer  made  no  movement,  not  even  to  turn  his  head. 

"What's  to  be  done?"  asked  Kirk,  breaking  the  intol- 
erable silence. 

Receiving  no  reply,  he  repeated  the  question  more 
roughly. 

"  I  don't  know,"  returned  Crawshaw  in  a  listless  tone. 
"  We're  done  for,  I  suppose.  We'll  never  get  out  of  this." 
A  despondent  gesture  of  his  hand  confirmed  the  hopeless- 
ness of  his  words. 

Kirk  next  tried  Henderson.  He  roused  him  from  his 
stupor  of  dejection  and  forced  him  to  get  up. 

"  Don't  lie  there  like  a  log,"  he  cried.  "  If  this  is  the 
end,  meet  it  like  a  man." 

Henderson,  risen  to  his  feet,  glowered  stupidly  at  him. 
A  dull  anger  animated  his  coarse,  common  face. 

"  What  do  you  want  to  bother  me  for?  "  he  demanded. 
"  Mayn't  a  chap  have  a  little  time  to  himself  before  blow- 
ing his  brains  out?  " 

"  Come  along  and  talk  things  over,"  said  Kirk,  ignoring 
his  surly  manner.  "  We're  all  in  the  same  box,  aren't  we? 

361 


THE   ADVENTURER 

There's  no  use  giving  up  before  we  have  to.     Keep  your 
darned  brains  for  a  better  purpose." 

Henderson  laughed  mirthlessly.  He  was  a  tall,  spare, 
reddish  creature  of  a  harsh  geniality,  who  was  ordinarily 
rated  one  of  their  best  and  stanchest  men.  A  bit  of  a 
philosopher  and  satirist,  much  given  to  jeering  comments  on 
things  in  general,  and  shrewd  home  thrusts  that  made  their 
victims  wince.  But  always  cool,  always  resourceful,  always 
the  first  to  volunteer  for  anything  disagreeable  or  dangerous. 
To  have  him  falter  now  was  to  Kirk  like  a  blow  in  the 
back.  His  heart  grew  heavier  than  ever  as  he  accompanied 
him  back  to  Vera  and  Crawshaw.  Together  they  made  a 
forlorn  little  group  about  the  car. 

"  Now  see  here,  everybody,"  began  Kirk;  "  I  want  you 
all  to  listen  to  me  and  listen  hard.  We  can't  go  back  to 
Cassaquiari — that's  plain.  No  food,  no  hope,  no  anything. 
We  certainly  can't  stay  here,  waiting  like  ninnies  for  angels 
to  descend  and  help  us.  I've  been  in  lots  of  tight  places 
in  my  life  and  not  an  angel  ever  showed  up.  Well,  what's 
left?  Why,  to  go  ahead — to  take  the  gamble — to  chance 
the  savages  and  chance  picking  up  the  ship." 

"  They've  got  her  by  this  time,"  said  Henderson. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  It's  a  thousand  to  one,  anyhow." 

"Then  you  don't  know.  How  can  you  possibly  know? 
The  last  we  saw  of  her  she  was  still  under  control.  There 
was  still  a  white  man  at  that  wheel,  Henderson.  How  long 
could  she  have  laid  a  course  if  our  fellows  had  been  bested  ? 
Not  a  minute,  by  George.  The  masts  would  have  been  out 
of  her  before  you  could  say  Jack  Robinson." 

"  And  what  when  the  wind  falls  at  sundown?  " 

"  She  may  have  fought  herself  clear  by  that  time." 

"  Or  not." 

362 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  Yes — or  not.  That's  one  of  the  chances  we  have  to 
take.  We  have  to  go  on  the  supposition  that  she  has  pulled 
through.  Admit  that  she  has,  for  argument — isn't  it  our 
policy  to  reach  her  ?  " 

"  But  we  may  never  pick  her  up  at  all,"  said  the  engineer, 
putting  in  a  word  for  the  first  time.  "  We've  no  compass, 
no  means  of  letting  them  know  our  predicament,  no  cer- 
tainty of  even  following  her  in  the  right  direction.  What's 
to  prevent  us  getting  stuck  out  there  in  the  middle  of  no- 
where?" 

"  No  worse  than  this,  old  fellow." 

Crawshaw  shuddered. 

"  It's  something  to  die  in  peace,"  he  said.  "  There  are 
no  Indians  here.  It's  awful  to  think  of  being  murdered." 
He  half  whispered  the  last  word. 

"  No  great  difference  in  the  long  run,"  returned  Kirk 
stoutly.  "  There  will  be  fewer  Indians — I'll  answer  for 
that.  How  are  we  off  for  cartridges  ?  " 

There  ensued  a  grim  counting. 

Seventy-seven.  No,  seventy-nine.  Crawshaw  had  an 
extra  two  in  his  trousers'  pocket. 

A  pitiful  supply. 

"  These  are  as  good  as  a  thousand,"  said  Henderson, 
poking  the  little  heap  with  a  stubby  finger.  "  I  take  it,  the 
captain's  idea  ain't  to  fight — it's  to  get  through  somehow — 
and  if  we  hammer  off  the  exhaust  pipes  the  noise  will  be 
worth  more  to  us  than  any  pistol-popping." 

"  A  good  suggestion,"  cried  Kirk.  "  We  can  make  a 
frightful  racket  by  stripping  off  the  hood  and  letting  the 
cylinders  exhaust  into  the  open  air." 

"  And  an  increased  efficiency,"  exclaimed  Crawshaw, 
awakening  to  technical  interest.  "  At  least  fourteen  per 
cent." 

24  363 


THE   ADVENTURER 

He  jumped  up  as  though  to  set  about  the  task. 

"  Oh,  not  yet !  "  protested  Kirk  in  alarm.  "  We  don't 
want  to  start  off  shooting  like  a  cannon.  We  don't  want 
to  attract  any  more  attention  than  can  be  avoided.  There 
may  be  no  savages  at  all,  remember;  or  at  such  a  distance 
that  we  may  slip  through  without  detection." 

"  But  the  hood  can  come  off  directly,"  said  Henderson 
with  eagerness;  "and  then  it  will  only  take  a  few  taps  to 
do  the  rest  when  the  time  comes." 

What  a  Godsend  it  was  to  do  something!  It  is  inaction 
that  kills.  The  task  of  breaking  off  the  hinges  made  a  wel- 
come diversion.  Crawshaw  fumbled  in  his  tool  chest  and 
handed  out  tools  with  a  matter-of-fact  air  as  though  he  drew 
confidence  from  their  very  touch.  Henderson,  the  would-be 
suicide  of  five  minutes  before,  briskly  seized  the  hammer  and 
cold  chisel  and  neatly  parted  the  brass.  The  two  covers 
were  flung  away,  revealing  below  the  compact  and  power- 
ful engine. 

"  Be  sure  it  ain't  the  intakes  you  smash,"  he  said,  gazing 
into  the  greasy  depths  and  trying  the  connections  with  his 
pliers.  His  practiced  eyes  took  in  the  pump,  the  magnets, 
the  carburetor,  the  push  rods  bathed  in  oil.  All  tri- 
umphantly passed  his  inspection.  Then  he  took  a  look  at  the 
tires,  and  gave  each  one  a  friendly  kick. 

"  The  auld  limmer's  ready  if  you  are,"  he  said,  smiling 
at  Kirk.  "  It  won't  be  her  fault  if  we  don't  make  it." 

For  a  while  Kirk  stood  silent,  unable  to  utter  the  com- 
mand to  start.  The  unknown  loomed  before  him,  pregnant 
with  terrible  possibilities.  He  paused  on  the  threshold, 
less  from  indecision  than  to  pull  himself  together  and  steel 
his  nerves  for  the  worst  that  might  befall.  Crawshaw's 
wail  returned  to  him  with  tempting  significance — "  To  die 
in  peace !  To  die  in  peace !  "  Ah !  in  contrast  to  the  horrors 

364 


THE  ADVENTURER 

awaiting  them  below  was  it  not  better,  after  all,  to  submit 
to  the  inevitable,  and  choose  the  easier  way?  To  choose 
their  death,  instead  of  having  to  accept  it  in  some  horrible 
and  agonizing  form,  amid  shrieks  and  powder  smoke  and 
raining  arrows  and  thrusting  spears?  The  cowardly  flesh 
would  have  it  that  Crawshaw  was  right.  The  soul  within 
said  No,  and  again  No;  a  brave  man  rights  to  the  last,  and 
then  falls  if  he  must,  with  unconquered  intrepidity. 

Vera's  eyes,  so  brilliant,  so  wild,  so  insatiably  fixed  on 
his  own,  pierced  him  with  indescribable  pangs.  Her  beauty, 
her  youth,  her  grace  and  delicacy  never  seemed  to  him  so 
precious  as  at  that  moment,  when,  with  a  breaking  heart, 
he  mutely  took  farewell  of  her.  A  tear  trickled  down  his 
sunburnt  cheek.  He  brushed  it  away  hastily.  It  angered 
him  to  feel  his  self-control  so  nearly  gone. 

"  Boys,"  he  said  in  a  husky  voice,  "  it's  time  to  be  off!  " 
The  engine,  at  the  throw  of  the  switch,  began  to  explode 
and  roar.  Kirk  hastily  changed  places  with  Vera,  making 
her  crouch  at  his  feet  while  he  took  her  former  and  more 
dangerous  seat  beside  Crawshaw.  The  ponderous  car  leaped 
back,  leaped  forward,  and  with  a  sharp  turn  of  the  wheel 
and  a  clang  of  gears,  sped  swiftly  down  the  incline. 


365 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

EVOLVER  in  hand,  Kirk  and  Henderson 
each  watched  the  road  in  front  of  them  like 
hawks,  and,  at  every  turn  of  its  twisting 
course,  drew  a  breath  of  relief  to  find  it  still 
unbarred  and  still  uncontested.  It  was  so 
narrow  in  places  that  a  single  good-sized  bowlder  could  have 
held  them  prisoners,  while  from  above  a  shower  of  rocks 
might  easily  have  been  dislodged  to  destroy  them.  As  they 
skirted  crags  and  precipices  they  would  keep  looking  above 
in  involuntary  terror,  lest  with  crashing  fury  some  unseen 
enemy  might  let  fly  at  them  with  this  primitive  artillery.  But 
nothing  disturbed  their  downward  passage,  and  the  deep 
silence  was  unbroken  save  by  the  drone  of  their  coils  and 
the  sound  of  their  panting  engine,  echoing  and  reechoing 
through  the  rocky  gorges. 

Their  courage  rose.  Their  fingers  tightened  on  their 
weapons  with  a  surer  grip.  They  began  to  feel  a  certain 
exhilaration  in  their  own  hardihood  and  daring.  Man — and 
the  white  man  most  of  all — is,  indeed,  a  fighting  animal,  and 
once  his  first  tremors  are  overcome  he  draws  a  long  breath 
and  is  good  till  he  drops.  No  wonder  a  general  talks  of 
seasoned  troops,  of  the  baptism  of  fire,  of  the  Old  Guard. 
He  wants  men  who  have  got  that  second  wind,  and 
esteems  one  of  them  at  tenfold  the  value  of  the  raw  re- 
cruit. Kirk  grew  conscious  of  the  change  in  himself.  He 
seemed  to  see  it,  too,  in  the  visage  of  the  gaunt  Scotch- 
man; in  little  Crawshaw,  bent  over  the  wheel,  with  lips 

366 


THE   ADVENTURER 

compressing  at  every  jolt,  and  a  new  light  shining  through 
his  spectacles. 

Mile  after  mile  rolled  away  behind  them,  and  still  they 
were  unchallenged.  No  dark  faces  peered  down  at  them, 
no  arrows  flew  from  the  ambuscades  on  either  hand.  They 
had  the  solitude  to  themselves,  and  seemed  to  share  it  with 
no  other  living  creature.  They  were  ingulfed  in  a  vast  lone- 
liness, which  was  but  intensified  by  the  measured  beat  of 
the  motor  and  the  rhythmic  purring  of  the  chains. 

Of  a  sudden,  shooting  around  a  curve,  they  were  elec- 
trified by  the  sight  of  the  other  car.  It  was  headed  obliquely 
toward  them,  its  nose  was  rammed  into  the  hillside,  where, 
its  engine  racing  furiously,  the  overheated  radiator  was 
boiling  out  torrents  of  water  and  steam.  The  seat  was 
empty,  but  over  the  dash,  in  a  limp  and  dreadful  attitude, 
there  hung  the  ghastly  apparition  of  a  man. 

They  jumped  out  and  ran  to  him.  The  face,  as  they 
raised  it  and  looked  into  the  staring,  sightless  eyes,  was  that 
of  Weaver,  the  jockey.  His  neck  had  been  pierced  by  a 
spear;  blood  was  oozing  from  a  dozen  other  wounds,  dis- 
coloring his  shabby  khaki  suit  with  great  splotches  of  crim- 
son; one  hand  still  clutched  an  arrow  he  had  torn  from  his 
living  flesh.  They  gazed  at  the  corpse  with  awe,  gripping 
their  revolvers  and  asking  one  another,  in  hushed  voices, 
the  reason  of  his  errand.  Had  he  been  coming  to  warn 
them  ?  Had  his  life  been  sacrificed  to  a  futile  heroism  ?  Or 
had  he  borne  a  message  from  the  ship  of  peremptory  and 
vital  importance? 

A  closer  inspection  gave  the  answer. 

At  his  feet  there  was  a  rough  package  of  sailcloth,  which, 
when  pulled  out  and  opened  on  the  ground,  showed  them 
for  what  he  had  died  to  bring.  Here,  tumbled  together,  were 
biscuits  and  cartridges,  some  cans  of  preserved  meat,  a  demi- 

367. 


THE   ADVENTURER 

John  of  water,  and  four  rifles — snatched,  as  one  might 
a  life  belt,  to  throw  to  a  drowning  man.  This  bundle 
had  cost  poor  Weaver  his  heart's  blood.  His  had  been 
the  thought,  his  had  been  the  devotion,  and  now,  as  it 
were  from  his  dead  hands,  they  reverently  received  his 
charge. 

Presumably  with  a  dying  effort,  he  had  disengaged  the 
clutch,  and  pushed  both  spark  and  throttle  into  the  last  notch, 
with  a  view  of  daunting  his  pursuers  by  the  ensuing  uproar. 
But  whether  this  had  been  done  either  by  design  or  acci- 
dent, there  was  little  doubt  as  to  its  effect.  The  sixty-horse 
engine,  reverberating  with  unchecked  and  terrific  velocity, 
had  been  left  to  rack  itself  to  pieces,  and  to  stem,  with  ear- 
splitting  menace,  the  final  rush  of  the  savages  on  their  prey. 
Its  own  destruction  was  the  price  of  those  few  minutes,  at 
most  not  more  than  an  hour,  that  had  filled  the  tragic  in- 
terval. 

The  rifles — service  Mausers  with  side  clips — were  hastily 
loaded;  the  floor  of  the  car  was  scattered  over  with  boxes 
of  cartridges;  the  provisions  and  demijohn  repacked  in  their 
original  wrapping  and  carefully  stowed  in  the  locker  beneath 
the  seat.  All  this  was  done  in  a  fever  of  haste — with  a  con- 
suming eagerness  and  impatience — the  thunder  of  both  en- 
gines seeming  to  urge  them  on  with  a  thrilling  reminder 
that  every  moment  was  precious.  Crawshaw  jumped  up 
beside  Weaver's  body  and,  pushing  it  to  one  side,  backed 
the  car  to  the  edge  of  the  ravine.  Then  descending,  all 
three  men  laid  hold  of  the  wheels,  and  with  a  united  effort 
tumbled  it  over.  It  crashed  down  the  steep  incline  like  an 
avalanche,  no  one  looking  to  see  where  it  finally  landed, 
nor  caring.  It  was  enough  that  the  road  was  clear,  and  they 
were  free  to  proceed. 

One  of  Crawshaw's  hands  was  wet  and  gummy.     He 

368 


THE  ADVENTURER 

turned  sick  as  he  looked  at  it,  and  wiped  it  furtively  on  his 
trousers. 

The  momentary  delay  brought  flame  to  Kirk's  eyes,  and 
he  cried  to  him  savagely  to  speed  her  up. 

"Don't  keep  us  sticking  here!"  he  yelled.  "Hurry! 
Hurry!" 

Crawshaw  obeyed,  and  the  engine  hummed  as  he  ad- 
vanced the  spark  to  a  twenty-mile  clip.  The  track  was  too 
rough  to  bear  more,  for  they  were  now  on  the  lower  levels 
where  often  for  considerable  lengths  the  ground  was  un- 
touched by  either  pick  or  shovel.  Jolting  and  bumping  on 
their  doubling  springs,  they  held  on  their  way  with  fierce 
vigilance,  their  rifle  barrels  covering  every  rock  and  bush 
that  enfiladed  them.  It  would  almost  have  relieved  the  in- 
tolerable tension  had  an  enemy,  indeed,  sprung  up  to  attack 
them.  There  was  something  peculiarly  trying  in  the  sense 
of  unseen  foes  surrounding  them,  of  unseen  hands  bending 
back  venomous  bows,  of  unseen  eyes  measuring  distances  and 
aiming  at  the  heart.  If  the  mind  attempted  to  reassure  itself 
there  flitted  before  it  the  grisly  figure  of  Weaver,  spectral 
and  bloody,  the  arrow  in  his  dead  grasp.  Those  that  had 
done  for  him  could  not  be  far  afield.  The  wilderness  seemed 
peopled  with  lurking  phantoms,  murderous  and  silent,  peep- 
ing out  from  a  thousand  lairs. 

The  country  grew  more  open  as,  with  lessening  billows, 
it  gradually  attained  the  plain.  Rocks  and  bushes  disap- 
peared and  with  them  the  gnawing  apprehensions  of  which 
they  had  been  the  cause.  No  ambuscade  was  possible  on  the 
sun-baked  earth  unbroken  by  even  a  blade  of  grass.  Here 
there  could  be  no  concealment,  no  sudden  burst  of  arrows, 
no  lightninglike  spear,  shot  quiveringly  home  from  behind 
a  clump  of  gorse.  What  enemy  there  might  be  had  to  show 
himself  a  mile  or  more  away.  The  rifle,  in  cool  hands,  was 

369 


THE  ADVENTURER 

now  a  hundred  times  more  formidable  than  it  had  been. 
With  its  long  reach  it  could  laugh  at  the  puny  arrows 
brought  against  it.  Though  numbers  would  still  tell,  of 
course;  the  Fortunas  desperate  and  undecided  battle  had 
shown  that;  but  it  was  good  to  think  that  it  was  no  longer 
in  the  power  of  the  savages  to  surprise  them,  and  that  before 
succumbing,  they  could,  if  need  be,  sell  their  lives  most 
dearly. 

At  length  they  drew  near  the  familiar  place  where  for 
so  many  weeks  the  Fortuna  had  stood,  immovable  and  tower- 
ing, like  a  ship  becalmed  on  a  glassy  sea.  They  slowed  down 
and  gazed,  with  a  sort  of  disconcerted  wonder  and  a  strange 
feeling  of  homelessness,  at  the  spot  they  remembered  so  well. 
All  about  them  was  the  disordered  litter  of  their  camp — 
empty  melancholy  drums  of  gasoline;  bottles;  stacks  of  tin 
cans;  some  piles  of  firewood;  a  tarpaulin,  freshly  painted 
and  pegged  out  to  dry ;  tools  still  lying  where  they  had  been 
dropped ;  the  pit  for  the  automobiles ;  spades,  picks,  mattocks, 
and  crowbars  rusting  in  a  heap;  and  those  inevitable  scraps 
of  paper,  fluttering  in  the  wind,  that  everywhere  seem  to 
accompany  civilized  man  on  his  wanderings  and  mark  his 
deserted  resting-places. 

'Beyond,  they  passed  the  first  body,  the  forerunner  of 
those  fallen  hundreds  that  were  to  guide  them  so  many 
gruesome  miles  across  the  llano.  He  had  been  caught  beneath 
one  of  the  Fortunas  wheels,  and  lay  crushed  and  hideous, 
his  outstretched  hands  clawing  the  earth  as  though  in  a 
despairing  effort  to  draw  himself  away.  Near  him  was  a 
horse  weltering  in  blood;  and  a  dozen  yards  farther  on 
were  more  naked  and  prostrate  forms  huddled  thickly  to- 
gether as  though  the  same  volley  had  brought  them  down. 
And  so  it  continued,  with  a  horrible  monotony,  a  horrible 
sameness,  till  the  attention  grew  callous  and  the  flesh  no 

370 


THE  ADVENTURER 

longer  shuddered  nor  sickened  at  horror  upon  horror.  Oc- 
casionally a  head  lifted  itself  and  snarled  at  them.  Figures 
were  passed,  with  matted  hair  and  dark  gleaming  eyes, 
crouching  and  nodding  in  a  dismal  shambles;  others  could 
be  seen  writhing,  crawling,  convulsively  struggling  to  extri- 
cate themselves  from  the  heaped-up  dead  that  smothered 
them.  From  one  motionless  tangle  of  men  and  horses  a  hand 
moved,  its  fingers  feebly  opening  and  shutting  on  the  empty 
air.  A  shattered  creature,  an  eyesore  of  blood  and  wretched- 
ness, staggered  toward  them,  gibbering  like  a  maniac,  but 
whether  in  appeal  or  defiance  or  delirium  it  was  impossible 
to  conjecture.  They  swerved  to  avoid  him,  and  looking 
back  saw  him  stumble  and  fall,  to  rise  no  more. 

There  was  a  grim  satisfaction  in  the  havoc — in  the 
thought  of  the  diminished  numbers  to  encounter,  and  of  the 
frightful  punishment  already  inflicted.  To  the  white  man, 
in  his  extremity,  the  dead  Indian  is  always  the  best  Indian. 
The  trail  of  corpses  seemed  to  promise  that  the  Fortuna 
might  yet  save  herself.  Such  a  dire  carnage  could  not  have 
been  without  its  effect.  With  such  evidences  of  a  deadly 
resistance  it  was  impossible  not  to  hope  for  the  best.  Surely 
the  men  who  had  defended  themselves  thus  valiantly  would 
not  go  down  before  that  last  onslaught  they  had  witnessed 
on  her  decks?  Surely  the  savages  must  have  been  weak- 
ened and  the  mass  of  them  discouraged  by  so  terrible  a 
slaughter? 

There  were  horses  everywhere,  and  for  these,  with  whom 
they  had  no  quarrel  and  entertained  no  fear,  their  pity  was 
unbounded.  How  mournful  were  their  whinnies,  how  sad 
and  pleading  their  eyes,  too  often  glazing  in  death !  Tough, 
thin,  wiry  little  bronchos  filched  from  the  wild  herds  that 
roamed  at  will  over  the  prairie,  a  fine  stock  that  had  re- 
verted to  nature — as  thrifty  as  goats,  as  indomitable  as 

371 


THE   ADVENTURER 

Arabs,  as  tireless  and  spirited  as  their  far-off  sires  in  Anda- 
lusia. The  car,  grinding  on  its  second  speed,  startled  many 
into  floundering  and  ineffectual  attempts  to  rise.  Others, 
dragging  themselves  miserably  on  three  legs,  snorted,  reared, 
and  tried  to  run,  only  to  fall  exhausted  before  they  had 
covered  a  dozen  yards.  One,  instead  of  alarm,  showed  an 
unmistakable  pleasure  in  their  approach,  and  cantered  after 
them,  neighing  and  trumpeting.  He  was  a  dark  chestnut 
stallion,  with  every  rib  showing  and  his  shrunken  belly 
streaming  blood.  For  a  few  miles  he  managed  to  keep  up 
with  them,  and  then,  in  spite  of  frantic  exertions,  he  gradually 
fell  behind  and  disappeared. 

The  sun  set  in  a  wild  and  fiery  splendor,  the  warning  of 
heavy  weather  soon  to  come.  The  wake  of  battle  thinned 
and  at  last  abruptly  ended.  Before  them  stretched  the  plain, 
as  pathless,  as  illimitable  as  the  sea.  They  stopped  the  car 
and,  getting  out,  put  ear  to  the  ground  in  the  hope  of  some 
guiding  sound.  But  there  was  none,  leaving  them  with  no 
alternative  but  to  blunder  forward  and  keep  as  straight  a 
course  as  they  could — the  sun  their  compass  till  dusk  and 
then  the  starry  firmament  of  the  Cross.  But  where?  To 
what?  The  Fortuna  lay  somewhere  in  that  aching  void,  but 
how  slender  the  chance  of  ever  finding  her;  and  if  found, 
might  not  their  success  be  more  terrible,  more  heartrending 
than  any  failure?  What  if  they  came  upon  her,  ghostly, 
gray,  and  silent  in  the  night,  her  decks  a  charnel  house,  her 
crew  sleeping  their  last  sleep  beside  her  guns? 

They  moistened  their  throats  with  a  draught  of  the 
warm  vapid  water.  Eat  they  could  not.  They  had  neither 
the  time  nor  the  inclination  to  eat.  On,  on,  on — that  was 
the  impelling  instinct.  To  put,  if  possible,  their  awful 
doubts  at  rest;  or,  perhaps,  God  willing,  to  find  the  ship 
all  well  and  safe,  and  friendly  hands  outstretched  to  grasp 

372 


THE  ADVENTURER 

their  own.  They  started  again,  their  spirits  descending  with 
the  sun,  the  long  shadows  darkening  their  souls  within. 
Cramped  with  long  sitting,  worn  out  by  devastating  emo- 
tions; body  and  brain  alike  spent,  dejected,  and  despairing, 
they  resumed,  with  gloomy  acquiescence,  their  racking,  toil- 
some way. 

The  twilight  deepened  into  dusk.  The  Cross  glimmered 
in  the  southern  sky.  Moving,  always  moving,  yet  they 
seemed  to  make  no  progress,  the  dome  above,  the  flat  below, 
and  they  themselves  remaining  in  the  very  center  of  an  un- 
shifting  world.  They  swept  the  pitiless  horizon  in  vain 
for  the  least  break — for  the  faintest  gossamer  of  spars  and 
rigging  that  somewhere  or  other  lay  beyond  in  the  infinite 
solitude.  'But  nothing  rewarded  their  straining  sight.  They 
were  alone  on  an  ocean. 

The  engine  began  to  splutter  and  gasp.  It  took  no 
expert  to  tell  that  something  was  seriously  wrong  with  it. 
The  car  slowed  down.  It  stopped.  Crawshaw  made  no  re- 
ply to  the  anxious  questions  addressed  to  him.  He  ran 
behind,  bent  down,  and  then  reappeared  with  a  face  haggard 
with  bad  news. 

"  Tank's  dry,"  he  explained  curtly.  "  Been  leaking  for 
miles.  The  old  wagon  has  run  her  last  yard !  " 

He  leaned  both  elbows  on  the  dash  and  looked  up  at 
them.  The  action  was  articulate  of  hopelessness,  of  apathy, 
of  there  being  nothing  left. 

"Run  her  last  yard!" 

They  were  castaways,  indeed. 

The  radiator  was  boiling  sullenly.  The  smell  of  roast- 
ing metal  and  hot  oil  was  wafted  back  to  them.  It  was 
hard  to  realize  that  their  willing  giant  had  given  up  the 
struggle  and  was  now  no  more  than  an  inert  mass  of  steel. 
They  regarded  the  massive  steering  knuckles  and  the  huge 

373 


THE  ADVENTURER 

tires  with  an  exasperated  dismay.  A  leak!  What  an  intol- 
erable, what  a  crushing  misfortune! 

Kirk  was  the  first  to  put  a  good  face  on  the  matter — 
the  crudest  and  hardest  duty  of  leadership. 

"  I  don't  know  that  we  need  cry  about  it,"  he  said. 
"  Perhaps  we  are  as  well  off  here  as  anywhere.  The  ship 
is  sure  to  beat  back  for  us  to-morrow." 

"If  anybody  is  alive  to  do  it,"  muttered  Henderson  in 
sinister  agreement. 

"  We're  going  on  that  idea,"  exclaimed  Kirk  angrily. 
"  If  she's  gone — well,  so  are  we — and  all  the  gasoline  in  the 
world  wouldn't  help  us !  " 

Crawshaw  nodded. 

"  Captain's  right,"  he  said,  pulling  out  his  pipe  and 
lighting  it.  "  That  is,  if  the  rest  of  those  beggars  aren't  too 
close  to  us."  (Puff,  puff.)  "  If  they  are  "  (puff,  puff),  "  we 
are  in  a  nasty  place  "  (puff,  puff),  "  and  no  doubt  about  it." 
(Puff,  puff.) 

Kirk  and  Henderson  followed  his  example.  For  sev- 
eral minutes  the  talk  ran  back  and  forth  on  the  same  sub- 
ject— the  risk  of  going  on,  were  such  a  thing  possible;  the 
risk  of  staying,  which  now  had  to  be  accepted  as  unavoidable 
— and  the  likelihood  or  not  of  the  ship  picking  them  up.  It 
was  determined  to  demolish  the  deck  of  the  car  and  keep  a 
small  fire  burning  all  next  day.  Here  was  another  peril, 
but  what  other  means  did  they  have  of  signaling  their 
position?  A  column  of  smoke  would  carry  twenty  miles  at 
least,  and  though  the  savages  might  see  it,  so  might  also 
the  ship. 

It  was  Vera's  voice  that  thrilled  on  their  ears  with  a 
startling  interruption. 

"  Hush !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  am  sure  I  heard  some- 
thing." 

374 


THE  ADVENTURER 

There  was  an  instant  silence. 

"Over  there,"  she  whispered.     "Listen!" 

From  the  gathering  shades  there  came  the  faint  and 
measured  tramp  of  innumerable  feet,  the  sound  of  horses' 
hoofs,  the  clank  of  metal,  and  an  undistinguishable  humming 
as  of  a  marching  host,  drawing  nearer  and  ever  nearer. 

They  sprang  to  their  rifles  and  waited,  with  thickly 
beating  hearts,  for  what  was  to  befall.  Cock,  cock,  cock, 
back  went  the  triggers.  Death  was  approaching  with  muffled 
tread.  Teeth  clenched  and  muscles  tightened.  It  was  the 
end  at  last. 

From  out  of  the  night  there  rose  a  dark  line  of  men 
and  horses,  the  foremost  ranks  of  a  dim  and  straggling  army 
behind.  The  course  of  the  savages  was  not  directly  toward 
the  car,  but  rather  as  though  to  pass  it  within  a  distance  of 
twenty  yards.  The  breathless  little  party  waited  for  it  to 
swerve  and  face  about;  waited  for  the  yell  of  exultation 
that  should  discover  them;  waited  for  the  terrific  onslaught 
that  would  roll  up  to  the  very  muzzles  of  their  weapons  and 
carry  everything  before  it. 

But  to  their  stupefaction  there  was  no  sign  of  turning. 
The  long  and  plodding  band  held  on  its  way  in  silence. 
Impassive  faces  regarded  them.  A  hand  was  pointed — that 
was  all. 

It  was  only  by  degrees  they  penetrated  the  mystery  and 
understood  the  reason  of  that  grim,  slow  and  stumbling 
progress  through  the  dusk.  There  was  hardly  a  man  there 
who  was  not  wounded,  hardly  a  horse  that  could  more  than 
move  out  of  a  walk.  This  was  why  those  naked  figures 
swayed  in  their  saddles,  supported  by  the  upraised  arms  of 
others  trudging  on  foot  beside  them ;  why,  from  every  stirrup, 
some  wretched,  limping  creature  held  himself  from  dropping 
and  clung  with  the  tenacity  of  despair  to  what  for  him  meant 

375 


THE  ADVENTURER 

life  itself.  It  was  the  shattered  remnants  of  the  horde  that 
so  few  hours  before  had  pressed  the  ship  so  hard.  Spent  and 
broken,  maimed,  bleeding,  and  hardly  able  to  drag  one  foot 
after  another,  they  passed  in  slow  procession  and  silently 
disappeared  into  the  darkness. 


376 


CHAPTER   XXX 

T  was  some  time  before  anyone  spoke.  In 
spite  of  the  witness  of  their  eyes  they  could 
not  at  once  shake  off  an  instinctive  feeling  of 
apprehension.  Their  rifles  followed  their 
vanished  enemy,  and  they  waited  breathlessly 
for  some  act  of  treachery  or  guile.  It  was  only  as  the  shuf- 
fling footfalls  died  entirely  away  that  they  were  able  to 
comprehend  the  full  extent  of  their  good  fortune.  Not  alone 
immunity  from  attack ;  that,  incredible  and  surprising  though 
it  was,  seemed  as  nothing  compared  to  the  assurance  of  the 
Fortunas  safety.  For  surely  that  was  what  was  implied? 
How  otherwise  could  they  explain  the  forlorn  and  spectral 
retreat  of  those  dejected  hundreds?  The  ship  had  tri- 
umphed !  The  heroic  handful  on  board  of  her  had  contrived 
to  save  the  day,  and  with  supreme  exertions  had  wrested  a 
complete  and  crushing  victory. 

They  shook  hands  on  it  with  the  fervor  of  men  reprieved 
at  the  foot  of  the  gallows.  "  She's  safe,  she's  safe !  "  they 
repeated  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight.  They  laughed  uproariously 
in  a  revulsion  that  verged  on  delirium.  Rescue  was  close 
at  hand.  A  few  hours,  that  was  all  —  a  few  hours,  and 
then — !  By  George,  what  a  shave  it  had  been!  Their 
lives  had  hung  by  a  hair.  And  everyone  of  them  had  been 
stanch.  Everyone  of  them  might  be  proud  of  himself. 
None  had  flinched  nor  faltered.  Die  hard,  that  had  been 
the  order,  and  they  would  have  done  it,  too,  and  the  last 
man  alive  would  have  shot  the  young  lady  through  the  heart  I 

377 


THE   ADVENTURER 

Henderson  bragged  incoherently  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  blood. 
There  wasn't  a  Dutchman  nor  a  frog  eater  fit  to  tie  their 
shoes.  He  wandered  off,  with  enthusiastic  inconsequence, 
to  the  combined  British  and  American  fleets  sweeping  the 
world.  He  called  for  this  international  event  to  begin  forth- 
with, maudlin  with  relief  and  excitement.  Crawshaw  was 
scarcely  any  better,  nor  Kirk  nor  Vera.  All  were  intoxicated 
with  a  joy  that  mounted  to  their  heads  like  wine. 

Before  they  could  get  back  to  earth,  and  while  they  were 
still  in  the  throes  of  a  feverish  and  almost  agonizing  elation, 
their  attention  was  suddenly  held  spellbound  by  a  flash  of 
light.  It  shot  into  the  sky  before  them,  a  thin,  brilliant  shaft 
like  that  of  a  far-distant  beacon,  and  moved  restlessly  to 
and  fro  as  though  scouring  the  heavens  with  a  tongue  of 
flame.  It  was  the  ship  calling  to  her  children  across  the 
night!  It  was  the  Fortuna,  questioning  the  blackness  with 
her  vivid  searchlight,  seeking  news  and  sending  it! 

Ah,  with  what  a  shout  they  greeted  her,  as  though  no 
thirty  miles  lay  between,  as  though  the  spacious  prairie  had 
shrunk  to  as  many  yards!  Crawshaw  was  the  first  to  re- 
cover himself.  With  trembling  fingers  he  loosened  one  of 
the  lamps  from  its  bracket,  and  putting  a  match  to  the  gas, 
placed  it  back  at  such  an  angle  that  ray  answered  ray,  and 
the  two  met  and  crossed  each  other  in  the  sky  above.  If 
good  news  came,  good  news  also  went,  and  deeply  anxious 
hearts  comforted  one  another  in  mute  communion. 

The  first  thought  was  to  abandon  everything  and  push 
forward  at  any  cost.  To  throw  aside  guns  and  food,  and 
defying  exhaustion,  distance,  and  danger,  reach  the  ship  as 
fast  as  their  weary  limbs  could  bear  them.  But  on  maturer 
consideration  the  risk  seemed  too  great,  and  the  chance  of 
success  too  uncertain.  They  were  utterly  worn  out  and  in 
no  condition  for  a  tramp  of  twenty,  thirty,  perhaps  forty 

378 


THE   ADVENTURER 

miles.  The  prospect  of  sinking  on  the  way,  with  nothing 
to  sustain  them,  and  no  means  of  making  their  position 
known,  was  too  desperate  to  be  hazarded.  Here  was  food, 
water,  weapons,  ammunition  in  abundance;  planks  with 
which  to  make  a  fire  and  raise  a  pillar  of  smoke  when  the 
sun  would  put  out  their  lamp;  here  ease  and  certainty,  with 
nothing  to  do  but  wait,  with  what  patience  they  might,  till 
the  ship  beat  back  for  them.  It  was  a  hard  conclusion  to 
come  to.  The  natural  craving  was  for  action;  to  do  and 
to  dare;  to  fling  all  caution  to  the  winds.  The  Fortunas 
light  beckoned  to  them  with  an  almost  unendurable  insistence, 
bidding  them  to  hurry,  bidding  them  to  come,  restlessly  de- 
manding why  they  hesitated. 

They  settled  themselves  on  the  ground  as  comfortably 
as  they  could.  Three  pipes  in  a  row  and  four  heads,  the 
last,  with  silken  cheek  and  lustrous  eyes,  snuggled  cozily 
against  Kirk's  blue  shirt  and  murmuring  musically  in  under- 
tones; a  sleepy  head,  so  small,  so  shapely,  so  glad  to  lie 
on  that  pillowing  breast,  the  glossy  hair  all  tumbled,  the 
slim  hands  imprisoned  so  contentedly  in  a  warm  and  tender 
grasp.  The  terrible  day  was  over,  with  all  its  shuddering 
horrors.  The  good  old  ship,  so  long  given  up  for  lost,  was 
winking  and  blinking  at  them  with  dazzling  encouragement. 
Ah,  how  good  was  life,  how  good  was  love,  how  exquisite 
the  thankfulness  that  welled  from  overflowing  hearts! 

Winking  and  blinking,  indeed.  Why  was  it  never  still  ? 
What  could  explain  those  incessant  alternations,  so  regular, 
so  irregular,  so  baffling  and  capricious?  Kirk,  much  tanta- 
lized, was  roused  to  time  the  periods  with  his  watch.  The 
short  flashes  averaged  three  seconds  apart,  the  blanks  ten. 
He  grew  immensely  excited. 

"  Crawshaw,"  he  cried,  "they're  signaling  us!" 

"  Of  course  they  are,"  returned  the  little  engineer  in- 
25  379 


THE  ADVENTURER 

differently.  "  I've  noticed  it  all  along,  only  as  we  haven't 
the  key  I  thought  it  would  be  too  disappointing  to  tell  you." 

"  You  don't  know  the  Morse  code?  " 

"  No." 

"  Nor  you,  Henderson  ?  " 

"  The  dot  and  dash  wig-wag  business? — No,  captain." 

"  Who  on  board  the  ship  does  know  it?  " 

"  I  can't  think  of  anybody  but  Mr.  Westbrook,"  said 
Crawshaw.  "  It  would  be  just  like  him,  at  least,  to  have 
it  poked  away  in  his  head  somewhere.  There's  nothing  in 
applied  electricity  that  he  hasn't  mastered  at  one  time  or 
another." 

Kirk  cried  out  delightedly. 

"  Then  he's  unhurt !  Vera,  your  father  must  be  safe ! 
That's  what  he  is  telling  us  this  minute!  " 

His  words  were  confirmed  by  a  chorus  of  enthusiastic 
agreement.  The  old  man's  welfare  was  most  dear  to  them 
all.  Kirk's  deduction  was  heartily  acclaimed.  The  Morse 
code,  however  unintelligible  in  detail,  had  yet  contrived  to 
pierce  the  night  with  one  precious  bit  of  news. 

All  at  once  Kirk  called  for  pencil  and  paper. 

"  I've  an  idea,"  he  exclaimed  breathlessly.  His  voice 
was  vibrant,  almost  harsh.  The  others,  thrilling  with  aston- 
ishment, hurriedly  sought  their  pockets.  Henderson  had  a 
stub  of  a  pencil.  Kirk  snatched  it  from  his  hand. 

"  Paper,  paper!  "  he  demanded  in  an  agony  of  impatience. 

There  was  no  paper;  not  a  scrap  anywhere.  Hands 
fumbled  and  searched  in  vain.  Henderson  volunteered  to 
soak  off  one  of  the  meat  labels. 

"  Can't  wait  for  that,"  snapped  Kirk.  "  Good  Heav- 
ens, I  must  have  it,  and  have  it  quick!  Look  again,  boys! 
Look,  look!" 

"  Would  sandpaper  do  ?  "  asked  Crawshaw  doubtfully. 

380 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  Yes— splendidly!" 

Crawshaw  ran  to  the  tool  box  and  got  a  couple  of  sheets. 

"  And  bring  one  of  the  lamps,"  cried  Kirk  after  him. 
"  One  of  the  kerosene  lamps." 

The  contagion  of  his  excitement  had  seized  them  all. 
They,  too,  were  in  a  tremble  of  expectancy  and  wonder. 
They  watched  him  take  one  of  the  sheets  of  sandpaper,  turn 
it  over,  spread  it  flat  on  his  knee  and,  lighted  by  the  lamp 
Crawshaw  held  beside  him,  scribble,  scribble,  scribble  as 
though  his  life  depended  on  it.  Then  he  stopped,  handed  the 
second  sheet  to  Vera  together  with  the  pencil,  and  asked 
her,  with  the  same  mysterious  intensity  of  voice  and  expres- 
sion, to  write  down  the  numbers  he  would  give  her. 

Retaining  the  first  sheet,  and  mumbling  to  himself  as 
he  slowly  counted  the  flashes,  he  at  intervals  called  out  the 
following  numbers: 

"  Nineteen,  one,  six,  five,  blank.  One,  eighteen,  five, 
blank.  Twenty-five,  fifteen,  twenty-one,  blank.  Nineteen, 
one,  six,  five,  blank." 

"  Now  let's  see  what  we've  got,"  he  went  on,  scanning 
his  key.  "What  was  your  first  number?" 

"  Nineteen." 

"  S— go  on." 

"  One." 

"  A— go  on." 

"  Six." 

"  F— go  on." 

"  Five." 

"E— that's  right!" 

"  Blank." 

«S-a-f-e— safel" 

There  was  a  tumultuous  outcry  at  his  ingenuity. 

"No  Morse  code  about  it!"  he  explained  rapturously, 


THE   ADVENTURER 

as  they  pressed  about  him.  "  Just  the  old  alphabet,  numbered 
regularly  down  the  line.  A,  one ;  b,  two ;  and  so  on !  Trans- 
parently simple  and  obvious. — Here,  don't  bother  me.  Shut 
up,  Henderson.  A  little  lower  with  the  glim,  Crawshaw. 
What  are  the  next  numbers,  Vera?" 

"  One,  eighteen,  five." 

"A-r-e— are. 

"  Twenty-five,  fifteen,  twenty-one." 

"Y-o-u— you.    Yes?" 

"  Nineteen,  one,  six,  five." 

«  S-a-f-e— safe." 

"Any  more?" 

"  No,  Kirk." 

He  read  over  the  four  words. 

"  Safe  are  you  safe?  " 

There  was  no  time  to  waste  in  further  congratulations. 
The  pressing  need  was  to  answer  the  ship,  and  so  systematize 
their  work  that  it  should  be  as  little  cumbersome  as  pos- 
sible. The  engineer,  with  a  chamois  skin  that  had  been 
used  for  straining  gasoline,  was  appointed  signaler;  Vera 
timer;  Henderson,  recorder;  Kirk,  sender  and  decipherer. 
By  this  division  the  laboriousness  of  the  task  was  lessened, 
and  though  it  was  impossible  to  make  it  anything  but  tedious 
and  slow,  the  results  were  surer,  and  much  confusion 
eliminated. 

"  Twenty-five,  five,  nineteen,"  answered  Kirk.     "  Yes." 

The  following  messages  are  copied  verbatim  from 
Henderson's  sheet.  It  was  preserved  as  among  the  most 
highly  prized  relics  of  the  expedition.  The  writing  is  coarse 
and  blurred  and  very  difficult  to  make  out.  The  paper, 
originally  of  a  light  fawn  color,  has  turned  to  dirty  gray, 
and  is  so  creased  and  broken  that  in  some  cases  the  words 
have  been  guessed  at.  The  ship's  telegrams,  if  they  may  so 

382 


THE  ADVENTURER 

be  called,  are  in  each  case  marked  by  an  X  to  distinguish 
them  from  the  others. 

X    "  Is  Vera  safe?  " 

"  Yes  who  asks?  " 

X  "  Westbrook  give  casualties" 

"  Weaver  killed:' 

X    "  Any  wounded?  " 

"  None." 

X    "  Ship  hard  pressed  escaped  do  you  need  help?  " 

"  No." 

X    "  In  danger?  " 

"  No." 

X    "  Can  you  hold  out  till  wind  rises  to-morrow?  " 

"  Yes." 

X    "  Will  send  relief  instantly  if  required" 

"  Not  required" 

X    "  Have  you  food  water?  " 

"  Yes." 

X    "  How  can  you  mark  your  position?  " 

"  You  mean  by  daylight?  " 

X    "Yes  daylight." 

"  Will  make  fire  to  guide." 

X    "  Very  good  we  will  find  you" 

"  We  ask  news  specially  yourself." 

X  "  Am  unharmed  phillips  killed  cohen  dying  emms 
ford  webster  bruce  killed." 

"  Convey  to  cohen  wounded  and  all  admiration  of  heroic 
defense." 

X    "  Will  obey  saying  good  night." 

"  Good  night." 

The  signals  ceased  on  either  side,  and  soon  after  the  ship's 
light  sank,  flickered  and  went  out.  Their  own,  too,  was 
extinguished,  and  with  it  seemed  to  go  the  stars.  The  all- 

383 


THE   ADVENTURER 

encompassing  darkness  resumed  its  sway,  sultry,  brooding, 
and  heavy  with  a  sense  of  impending  disturbance.  Not  that 
the  little  party  gave  these  indications  more  than  a  passing 
thought.  There  were  other,  and  too  engrossing  matters,  to 
absorb  their  whole  attention.  In  hushed  voices  they  repeated 
the  roll  of  death;  recalled  this  one  and  that;  mourned  for 
them  all,  these  comrades  now  no  more.  A  passionate  grat- 
itude animated  them,  a  passionate  relief — the  inexpressible 
sensations  of  a  soldier  who  has  emerged  from  the  battle 
unscathed.  So  happy,  so  wretched,  tears  and  laughter  equally 
sincere,  succeeding  each  other  in  a  whirl  of  conflicting 
emotions. 

It  was  long  after  midnight  before  they  began  to  nod. 
Sleep  came  upon  them  so  stealthily  that  no  watch  was  set, 
no  precautions  taken.  The  tired  eyes  closed.  The  tired 
limbs  relaxed.  One  Indian  might  have  butchered  them  all. 

Kirk  awoke  with  warm  raindrops  pattering  in  his  face. 
The  hoarse  note  of  a  squall  broke  on  his  ears.  He  sat  up,  and 
even  as  he  did  so  the  heavens  detonated  with  terrific  ex- 
plosions, and  flash  after  flash  of  lightning  lit  the  slumbering 
figures  about  him.  They  were  on  their  feet  in  an  instant 
and  clustered  about  him;  the  rain  descended  in  torrents  and 
the  wind  whistled  and  shrieked.  Wet  to  the  skin,  clinging 
to  one  another  to  withstand  the  violent  gusts,  apprehensive 
every  moment  of  being  struck  by  the  lightning  that  inces- 
santly played  about  them,  they  waited  in  misery  for  the 
squall  to  pass  and  vent  its  rage  on  the  black  night  beyond. 

But  another  followed  it,  and  another.  The  wind  fresh- 
ened to  a  steady  gale.  The  rain  stung  their  faces  as  it  drove 
to  leeward  as  though  blown  from  cresting  waves.  The 
fear  of  thunderbolts  gave  way;  to  stand  longer  in  the  blast 
grew  too  acutely  uncomfortable  to  be  borne;  they  sheltered 
themselves  under  the  lee  of  the  car,  willingly  accepting  the 

384 


THE   ADVENTURER 

chances  of  its  being  struck,  all  crowding  together  on  the 
step  like  shipwrecked  sailors  on  a  rock.  Here  the  dawning 
day  found  them,  the  wind  blowing  harder  than  ever,  the 
tropic  rain  sopping  their  thin  clothes,  their  feet  ankle  deep 
in  a  muddy  pond. 

The  weather  horizon  was  wild  and  stormy  and  part  of 
it  hidden  by  fiercely  advancing  curtains  of  rain.  Ragged 
clouds  scudded  across  the  sky,  dilapidated,  fragmentary, 
lashed  to  fleecy  shreds.  Though  under  the  equator  the  out- 
look was  as  bleak  and  wintry  as  the  North  Sea  itself,  and 
a  penetrating  chill  froze  the  little  party  to  the  bone.  It  was 
idle  to  talk  of  fire.  Benumbed,  cramped,  hardly  able  to 
move,  they  were  in  no  state  to  tear  the  stout  oak  deck 
asunder  with  the  poor  tools  at  their  disposal.  Nor  would 
it  have  burned  if  they  had.  Everything  was  soaked  and 
dripping.  An  attempt  was  made  to  obtain  a  little  heat  by 
lighting  the  lamps,  but  the  heads  of  the  matches  rubbed  ofE 
in  sodden  paste,  and  they  dared  not  persevere  lest  their  slen- 
der stock  should  become  exhausted.  Even  in  their  extremity 
they  had  to  take  thought  of  the  future — of  whole  days  per- 
haps before  the  ship  could  find  them — of  a  possible  worse 
to  come. 

Famished  nature  demanded  food.  Two  cans  of  meat 
were  opened  and  biscuit  handed  out;  a  terrible  breakfast, 
never  to  be  forgotten,  devoured  under  circumstances  of  in- 
conceivable discomfort,  but  sustaining,  nevertheless,  and  re- 
viving a  sorely  needed  strength  and  courage.  Then,  as  the 
only  means  left  in  their  power  to  attract  attention,  they  de- 
cided to  fire  a  rifle  in  the  air  at  minute  intervals.  The 
flash  might  be  seen  even  if  the  report  were  lost  in  the  roar 
and  bluster  of  the  gale. 

The  dreary  fusillade  began,  carefully  timed  by  a  watch 
— surely  the  most  despondent  minute  guns  ever  fired,  if  not 

385 


THE  ADVENTURER 

the  most  hopeless.  And  as  the  barrel  grew  hot  with  repeated 
explosions,  hands  were  greedily  warmed  on  it  and  another 
rifle  taken  in  its  place.  Kirk  twice  shot  his  revolver  empty 
and  gave  it,  all  smoking  as  it  was,  to  Vera  to  put  in  her 
bosom.  There  it  lay,  begriming  the  hidden  beauty  of  her 
breast,  glowing  deliciously  in  its  satin  nest. 

Suddenly  through  the  gloom  of  an  on-coming  squall,  as 
unexpected  and  startling  as  the  fabled  phantasm  that  haunts 
the  stormy  seas  below  the  Cape,  there  loomed  into  view  the 
towering  masts  and  closely  reefed  sails  of  the  Fortuna,  driv- 
ing mistily  on  the  wings  of  the  gale.  Gesticulating  figures 
pointed  wildly  at  them.  The  boatswain's  whistle  piped 
shrilly.  Men  were  rushing  to  their  stations  and  letting 
everything  fly.  The  huge  brakes  screamed  as  steel  was 
ground  to  steel,  and  the  enormous  fabric  slowed  and  stopped. 

A  ladder  was  thrown  over  her  side.  Bearded  faces 
could  be  seen,  cheering  and  clustering,  in  a  yellow,  glistening 
mass  of  oilskins  and  sou'westers.  From  the  bridge  others 
were  darting  down,  their  voices  lost  in  the  bursting  of  the 
squall  which  at  this  moment  opened  with  all  the  roar  of 
heaven's  artillery.  Lightning  flashed  and  forked.  Thunder 
pealed.  The  wind  swelled  to  fury  and  howled  through  the 
rigging  as  though  to  carry  the  very  masts  before  it. 

Kirk  supported  Vera  in  his  arms  and,  preceded  by  Craw- 
shaw  and  Henderson,  the  little  party  struggled  against  the 
blast  and  toiled  laboriously  across  the  cable's  length  that 
separated  them  from  the  ship.  They  painfully  mounted  the 
ladder,  their  muddy  feet  slipping  on  its  rungs,  their  icy 
hands  hardly  able  to  hold  the  wet  and  slippery  rope.  One 
by  one  they  reached  the  rail  and  were  drawn  aboard,  to  be 
swallowed  up  in  a  mad  hurly-burly  of  streaming  oilskins. 
Kirk  had  a  confused  vision  of  Vera  clinging  to  her  father — 
of  the  old  man's  face,  pinched  with  suffering,  rapt  and  trem- 

386 


THE  ADVENTURER 

ulous  with  thanksgiving;  of  Von  Zedtwitz  forcing  his  burly 
way  to  him,  his  eyes,  beneath  their  grizzled  brows,  suffusing 
with  a  noble  emotion  and  wet  with  other  moisture  than 
the  rain;  of  Goltz,  of  Wicks,  of  Hildebrand,  of  all  those 
tried  and  devoted  comrades,  surging  and  vociferating  about 
him,  as  though  they  would  tear  him  to  pieces  in  the  excess 
of  their  joy. 

As  in  a  dream  he  found  himself  borne  aft,  jostled, 
crowded,  almost  lifted  off  his  feet.  Found  himself  in  the  great 
cabin — warm,  brightly  lit,  disordered  with  blankets  and  cots, 
and  reeking  like  a  hospital.  Wounded  men  called  out  to  him. 
Feeble  hands  were  raised  to  clasp  his  own.  It  was  bewilder- 
ing, pitiful.  He  stood  there  dazed,  unable  to  comprehend 
the  transformation. 

Mrs.  Hitchcock  emerged  from  a  cabin  door  with  an  arm- 
ful of  dripping  clothes.  She  dropped  them  to  the  floor  as 
she  beheld  Kirk,  running  to  him  in  a  whirlwind  of  giggles 
and  exclamations.  The  incorrigible  old  egoist  was  as  talk- 
ative as  ever  and  just  as  delighted  to  pounce  on  a  new 
victim. 

She  was  the  doctor  now,  she  cried.  Hee-hee,  Kirk  had 
to  obey  her  now.  Everybody  had  to  obey  her  now.  He  was 
to  go  to  bed  at  once  and  tuck  himself  in  with  a  hot  bottle. 
He  had  to.  He  must.  Everything  was  ready.  Hee-hee, 
first  aid  to  the  drowning!  Hot  blankets,  hot  bottles,  hot 
broth !  Hadn't  it  been  sensible  of  her  to  see  to  it  ?  Hee-hee, 
not  such  a  fool  as  she  looked!  Hee-hee,  the  old  woman  who 
lived  in  a  shoe,  with  so  many  children. — Oh,  Vera  was  all 
right!  Oh,  yes,  she'd  stake  her  oath  on  it!  Couldn't  have 
lasted  much  longer,  however.  Hee-hee,  would  have  died 
probably  and  wouldn't  it  have  been  sad !  Hee-hee !  Though 
she  was  getting  used  to  people  dying.  Wasn't  it  awful? 
Quite  used  to  it!  Collected  locks  of  hair  and  mixed  them 

387 


THE  ADVENTURER 

up.  Didn't  know  whether  it  was  Phillips's  or  Ford's,  hee- 
hee!  Oh,  it  was  sad  the  way  Phillips  cried!  He  didn't 
want  to  die  at  all.  Said  as  long  as  he  held  her  hand  he 
held  to  life — and  she  had  to  eat  her  meals  with  the  other. 
Couldn't  bend  her  fingers  back  for  an  hour  afterwards. 
Hee-hee,  how  she'd  tell  them  about  it  in  Paris!  Would 
make  them  stare,  wouldn't  it — I'Americaine  who  had  smelled 
gunpowder  and  fired  a  rifle  like  a  man.  Hee-hee,  through 
the  deck!  But  Kirk  wouldn't  give  her  away,  would  he? 
He  wouldn't 

Fortunately  for  Kirk  this  harangue  ricochetted  off  him  to 
Crawshaw,  who  had  foolishly  blundered  into  the  fire  zone, 
and  in  the  momentary  confusion  that  ensued  he  took  to  flight. 
It  was  strange  to  find  himself  again  in  his  little  cabin,  sur- 
rounded by  the  familiar  and  homely  objects  of  everyday  life. 
What  an  eternity  seemed  to  have  intervened  since  he  had 
last  touched  that  brush,  passed  that  comb  through  his  hair, 
shaved  himself  before  that  bit  of  mirror!  Wonderful  to 
find  his  pyjamas  still  beneath  his  pillow,  as  though  they  had 
never  lost  confidence  in  his  return!  Wonderful  to  throw 
back  the  coverlet  and  to  think  of  closing  his  eyes  in  serenity 
and  peace ! 

His  teeth  were  chattering  as  he  stripped  of?  his  clothes 
and  hurried  into  bed.  He  lay  all  doubled  up  for  warmth, 
and  tried  to  overcome  the  chill  that  mantled  him  in  ice. 
There  was  a  tap  at  the  door  and  Westbrook  entered  bearing 
a  steaming  bowl  of  soup.  He  sat  down  gravely  on  the  edge 
of  the  bunk  and  waited  for  Kirk  to  drink  it,  which  the 
latter  did,  sip  by  sip,  each  one  a  trickle  of  delicious  fire.  The 
old  man  looked  very  frail  and  ill,  but  his  mouth  was  as 
firm  as  ever  and  his  expression  as  benignly  unconquerable. 
As  Kirk  finished  he  leaned  forward  and  their  hands  met  and 
clasped. 


THE  ADVENTURER 

"  My  boy,  my  boy,"  he  murmured.  "  I  thank  God  for 
this— I  thank  God!" 

"  We  couldn't  have  stood  it  much  longer,  sir." 

Westbrook  bowed  his  head  in  tragic  assent. 

"  We'll  leave  this  horrible  place  as  soon  as  you  are 
rested,"  he  said  at  length.  "  When  do  you  think  you  will 
be  fit  to  travel  ?  " 

"  This  minute,"  cried  Kirk.     "  That  is,  if  Vera " 

"  She  has  borne  it  surprisingly  well.  It  all  turns  on 
you." 

"On  me?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  lay  the  ship  on  her  course  at  once.  It  would  be 
a  shame  to  waste  such  a  gale  as  this  when  it  is  in  our  favor." 

Westbrook  pondered  anxiously. 

"  We  mustn't  take  any  risk,"  he  said.  "  I  fancy  you 
wouldn't  know  yourself  in  a  glass.  It  has  told  on  you  more 
than  you  imagine." 

Kirk  laughed  feebly. 

"I'm  all  right,"  he  exclaimed;  "and  I  need  no  better 
medicine  than  to  be  homeward  bound." 

Homeward  bound,  ah,  the  magic  of  those  words! 

"ThenlmaytellGoltz?" 

"  The  sooner  the  better,  sir." 

"  Wicks  and  he  are  waiting  outside  for  your  decision." 

"  Bless  them — though  they  aren't  to  carry  away  any 
sticks.  Tell  them  to  go  easy,  sir." 

"  That  foolish  girl  wants  a  message.  Said  I  wasn't  to 
come  back  without  it." 

"  Tell  her  I'm  the  happiest  man  in  the  world — and  the 
tiredest." 

"  No  doubt  about  either." 

"And  that — that " 

389 


THE  ADVENTURER 

The  weary  head  sank.  The  weary  eyes  closed.  West- 
brook  gazed  down  at  the  handsome  face  long  and  earnestly. 
A  smile  still  lurked  in  the  corners  of  the  well-shaped  mouth ; 
the  breathing  was  as  soft  and  regular  as  a  child's ;  a  veil  of 
contentment  covered  the  careworn  features  now  softened  in 
sleep. 

The  old  man  tiptoed  silently  from  the  room  and  held  a 
whispered  colloquy  with  Goltz  and  Wicks  outside. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  Fortuna>  under  storm  trysail 
and  treble-reefed  fore-topsails,  was  tearing  her  way  through 
the  dark  and  flooded  llano.  Her  great  wheels  shot  up  a 
blinding  spray;  her  great  hull  rocked  and  bounded  on  the 
groaning  springs;  her  masts  bent  as  though  the  tortured 
wood  could  not  long  hold  back  the  weight  of  the  gale. 
Wicks,  his  thick  legs  wide  apart,  his  hands  clinched  on  the 
rail,  his  speaking  trumpet  tight  in  the  vice  of  his  arm,  dom- 
inated the  uproar  from  the  lofty  bridge,  and  with  masterful 
eye  and  rousing  voice  sped  the  ship  on  her  perilous  course. 

Gloom  in  front.  Gloom  behind.  Dreary,  watery 
stretches  of  sodden  earth.  Dripping  ropes  and  thundering 
sails.  A  world  of  wet  and  wind  and  emptiness,  through 
which  the  Fortuna  lumbered  in  headlong  flight,  jolting, 
bumping,  lurching,  discordantly  creaking  from  every  rivet 
of  her  fabric. 

Homeward  bound! 


390 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

gale  held.  The  Fortuna  outdid  herself. 
Every  bit  of  daylight  was  taken  advantage 
of,  and  she  was  pressed  to  the  utmost.  On 
the  afternoon  of  their  third  day  out,  as  they 
drew  near  Felicidad,  it  was  decided  to  lighten 
her  of  every  superfluous  ounce  of  weight  in  the  hope  of 
getting  her  in  by  dusk.  Provisions  were  cast  overboard; 
tents;  chains;  spare  chandlery;  casks  of  lubricating  oil,  of 
petroleum,  of  gasoline;  extra  bolts  of  canvas;  tools;  anvils; 
jacks;  ammunition;  the  machine  guns  themselves.  It  was 
like  the  stripping  of  some  fleet  runner  for  a  supreme  and  final 
effort.  She  picked  up  with  the  loss  of  every  ton — fourteen, 
fifteen,  sixteen,  seventeen  miles  an  hour!  Part  of  the  treas- 
ure was  shifted  forward  to  trim  her  better.  Tables,  chairs, 
mattresses,  ventilators,  hatches  —  even  the  doors  were 
wrenched  from  their  hinges,  and  enthusiastically  sacrificed. 
Von  Zedtwitz,  whose  cabin  was  crammed  with  Aztec  re- 
mains, had  to  mount  guard  to  prevent  them  from  following. 
A  crated  idol,  lashed  to  the  foremast,  was  only  saved  in  the 
nick  of  time  from  being  shot  overboard.  And  all  the  while 
the  Fortuna  with  loosened  reefs  swept  on  with  an  increasing 
fury  as  though  to  outstrip  the  storm  itself.  With  buckling 
yards  and  backstays  tautened  till  they  whimpered  and 
moaned,  she  was  made  to  fly  with  a  desperate  courage  that 
balked  at  nothing. 
"Land  ho!" 
"Where  away?" 

391 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  Three  points  on  the  starboard  bow !  " 

"  Quartermaster!  " 

"  Ay,  ay,  captain." 

"Luff  a  bit!" 

"  Luff  it  is,  sir." 

"  Trim  in  the  sheets  a  bit,  Mr.  Goltz!  " 

"  Very  good,  sir." 

"That  will  do.    'Belay  there!" 

It  was  after  five  o'clock.  The  setting  sun  was  hidden  in 
banks  of  cloud.  The  wide  savannas  stretched  away  on  every 
side  to  an  unbroken  sky  line,  gray,  monotonous,  never  so 
lonely  as  at  that  hour  of  declining  day.  The  bow  was 
black  with  men  watching  for  the  first  sign  of  the  settle- 
ment. On  the  bridge  a  smaller,  but  no  less  eager,  party 
was  trying  to  pick  up  the  flagstaff  with  their  binoculars. 
Felicidad,  once  so  distant,  so  inconceivably  remote,  the  end 
of  the  universe — now  stood,  by  force  of  contrast,  for 
civilization  itself.  It  was  the  first  gateway  on  the  home- 
ward road,  the  first  outpost,  the  solitary  sentinel  of  the  hosts 
beyond. 

A  speck  of  flag  blowing  out  bravely! 

A  blur  of  tent  tops! 

The  tall  and  rusty  smokestack  of  the  Moltkel 

Then  frantic  arms  waving  hats! 

The  Fortuna  rolled  on  majestically,  disdaining  to  shorten 
sail  or  slacken  her  headway  by  an  inch.  Kirk  aimed  her  at 
the  center  of  the  settlement,  determined  to  bring  her  up,  all 
standing,  in  the  great  court  itself.  He  would  give  the 
Felicidads  a  spectacle  that  would  live  in  their  memories 
forever,  and  bring  the  expedition  to  a  magnificent  and  sen- 
sational close.  In  vain  Westbrook  urged  him  to  be  careful 
— pleaded — almost  commanded. 

392 


THE   ADVENTURER 

"  Leave  it  to  me,"  laughed  Kirk.  "  I'm  going  to  land 
her  alongside  the  marquee !  " 

There  was  a  hail  of  orders,  a  rush  to  stations,  expectant 
faces  waiting  for  the  word. 

Up  shot  Kirk's  hand. 

"  Stand  by!     Shorten  sail!  "  he  thundered. 

The  sails  came  down,  lashing  and  reverberating,  flooding 
the  decks  with  yellow  billows. 

"Brakes!" 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir." 

"  Easy,  boys,  easy!  " 

The  towering  hull  sped  nearer  the  rows  of  tents,  dwarf- 
ing them  into  insignificance. 

"Hard  down!" 

"  Hard  down  it  is,  sir." 

There  was  a  grinding  jar,  the  groan  of  metal  on  metal, 
a  shrill  screech  dying  to  a  moan. 

The  ponderous  wheels  slowly  came  to  rest. 

The  voyage  was  over. 

A  waggish  voice  from  the  merry,  noisy,  hilarious  crowd 
below  yelled  out:  "  What  ship's  that?  " 

Then  came  the  answer  in  a  stentorian  voice. 

"  Topsail  schooner,  Fortuna,  Captain  Kirkpatrick!  " 

"Where  from?" 

"Three  days  out  of  Cassaquiari,  in  treasure!" 

Any  further  questions  were  drowned  in  the  salvos  of 
cheers  and  counter  cheers  that  burst  forth  from  every  throat. 
The  lowered  gangway  swarmed  with  an  incoming  throng, 
shouting  and  vociferating  at  the  top  of  their  lungs. 

Wicks,  elbowing  vigorously,  forced  his  way  up  to  Kirk. 

"What  orders,  captain?"  he  asked,  in  his  usual  blunt, 
cool,  sailorlike  way. 

"  My  dear  old  chap,"  said  Kirk,  "  I  have  given  my  last 
393 


THE  ADVENTURER 

order  and  the  only  captain  I  know  now  is  this  young  lady. 
I've  signed  on  for  a  life's  cruise,  and  all  you  have  to  do  is 
to  wish  me  luck !  " 

"  With  all  my  heart,  sir,"  cried  Wicks,  "  and  if  I  may 
take  the  liberty — may  God  bless  you  both !  " 

Kirk's  share  was  four  hundred  and  thirty-seven  thousand 
dollars.  He  invested  the  four  hundred  thousand  in  first- 
class  securities  and  devoted  the  odd  thirty-seven  to  his  honey- 
moon. Vera  and  he  worked  their  hardest  to  spend  it,  but 
had  to  admit  at  last,  with  great  reluctance,  that  the  task 
seemed  beyond  them.  They  were  both  of  simple  tastes  and, 
as  Kirk  remarked,  neither  of  them  had  been  expensively 
enough  educated.  He  did  try  a  valet,  but  the  creature  got 
so  confoundedly  on  his  nerves,  and  added  so  much  fuss  and 
formality  to  existence,  that  he  was  glad  to  dismiss  him. 
After  a  few  months'  wandering  in  Europe,  they  returned  to 
America  and  settled  in  Long  Island  in  order  that  Kirk 
might  be  close  to  the  works  in  Jersey  City.  He  goes  there 
every  day  in  a  small  steam  yacht,  and  on  summer  afternoons 
Vera  is  usually  aboard  to  meet  him  on  his  return.  It  must 
be  admitted  that  among  their  fashionable  neighbors  they  have 
the  reputation  of  being  rather  poky  people,  in  spite  of  their 
romantic  history,  who  go  out  but  seldom,  and  do  not  care 
to  extend  a  very  narrow  acquaintance. 

It  is  large  enough,  however,  to  include  Homer  Kittredge. 
His  arrival  in  America  was  made  such  a  triumph  that  Kirk 
hesitated  to  obtrude  into  the  blaze  of  limelight  that  sur- 
rounded him,  and  only  did  so  at  last  with  the  utmost  diffi- 
dence. He  sent  up  his  card  at  the  St.  Regis,  and  tried  to 
appear  at  ease  before  the  splendid  menials  that  guarded  the 
ducal  stronghold  and  its  ducal  inmates  from  such  question- 
able and  nervous  interlopers  as  himself. 

394 


THE  ADVENTURER 

The  novelist  came  down  in  a  rush,  as  gay  and  boyish 
and  unspoiled  as  though  he  were  quite  an  ordinary  person, 
and  greeted  Kirk  with  such  an  exuberance  of  regard  and  so 
hearty  a  grasp  of  the  hand,  that  even  the  hotel  clerk  was 
thrilled  at  the  thought  of  the  unsuspected  angel  he  had  seen 
trying  to  hide  himself  behind  a  ten-thousand-dollar  Carrara 
pillar.  In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  write,  the  celebrity  was 
outward  bound  in  a  spanking  hansom,  Kirk's  promised 
guest  for  a  week,  and  his  warmest  friend  for  all  time.  The 
visit  lengthened  into  months,  and  was  the  beginning  of  an 
intimacy  that  grows  closer  with  every  year. 

The  crew  broke  up  and  scattered  to  the  ends  of  the  earth. 
News  trickles  in  from  them  at  long  intervals,  mainly  in 
the  form  of  a  photograph  of  a  baby.  At  the  present  moment 
there  are  sixteen  tiny  Kirks  growing  up  in  various  parts 
of  the  world,  and  a  lot  of  little  Vera  and  Fortuna  girls. 
Next  year  Von  Zedtwitz  is  to  hold  a  grand  reunion  at 
Heidelberg,  where  as  many  of  the  old  hands  as  possible 
will  be  got  together  to  celebrate  his  marriage  to  Mrs.  Hitch- 
cock. Yes,  the  secret  is  out,  though  his  friends  long  guessed 
whither  events  were  tending.  When  the  old  lady  quitted 
Paris,  and  built  that  famous  reproduction  of  the  Trianon 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  venerable  town,  it  was  felt  that  she 
was  laying  siege  in  form,  and  that  the  rugged  Herr  Doctor 
would  soon  succumb.  His  outer  works  gradually  crumbled 
before  the  persistency  of  her  attack,  and  a  steel-engraved  card, 
in  Gothic  characters,  now  publicly  flies  the  signal  of  his 
complete  surrender. 

At  present  he  is  working  hard  on  his  book,  which,  when 
completed,  will  run  to  five  large  quarto  volumes,  aggregat- 
ing two  thousand  closely  printed  pages,  with  sixty-two  col- 
ored plates,  and  one  hundred  and  ninety  photographic  repro- 
ductions, and  will  appear  simultaneously  in  three  languages. 
26  395 


THE   ADVENTURER 

It  is  entitled  "  A  Brief  Record  of  the  Voyage  of  the  Land 
Ship  *  Fortuna,'  with  Observations  and  Notes  relating  to  the 
Ancient  Ruins  of  Cassaquiari,  together  with  an  Account  of 
the  Author's  Captivity  among,  and  subsequent  Escape  from, 
the  Piapoco  Aborigines,  with  some  General  Remarks  on  the 
Flora,  Fauna,  and  Anthropology  of  the  Mid-South  American 
Region." 

Intending  purchasers  had  better  order  early  as  an  enor- 
mous sale  is  predicted. 

In  the  meanwhile,  this  unassuming  and  less  authoritative 
narrative  is  offered  to  the  indulgence  of  the  public  merely 
as  a  stop-gap  for  the  more  extended  work  to  follow. 


(2) 


THE    END 


396 


BY  LLOYD  OSBOURNE. 


Three  Speeds  Forward. 

Uniquely  illustrated  with  full-page  illustrations, 
head  and  tail  pieces  and  many  sketches  by  Karl 
Anderson  and  H.  D.  Williams.  Ornamental  Cloth, 
$1.00. 

"  '  Three  Speeds  Forward'  is  an  amusing  automobile  story  by  Lloyd 
Osbourne,  in  which  the  ostensible  teller  of  what  happened  is  the  girl 
heroine.  A  little  runabout  is  the  important  factor  in  the  love  romance. 
The  book  is  prettily  bound  and  printed  and  is  illustrated." —  Toledo  Blade. 

1 '  Three  Speeds  Forward/  by  Lloyd  Osbourne,  is  a  very  brief  and 
most  agreeable  novelette  dealing  with  modern  society  and  the  chug- 
chug  wagon." — Philadelphia  Inquirer. 

"The  climax  of  this  story  is  original  and  most  humorous.  The 
action  is  rapid  and  consistent  with  the  subject  in  hand.  Altogether  it  is 
a  most  enjoyable  little  volume,  well  illustrated  and  attractively  bound." 

— Milwaukee  Sentinel. 

"  It  is  a  bright  and  sprightly  little  story,  very  strongly  flavored  with 
gasoline,  but  quite  readable.  It  is  attractively  and  characteristically 
illustrated." — New  York  Times. 

Wild  Justice. 

Illustrated.     Ornamental  Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  Lloyd  Osbourne's  stories  of  the  South  Sea  Islands  are  second  only 
to  Stevenson's  on  the  same  theme.  *  Wild  Justice '  is  a  volume  of  these 
short  stories,  beginning  with  that  strong  and  haunting  tale,  '  The  Rene- 
gade.' These  are  stories  which  will  bear  reading  more  than  once. 
They  have  an  atmosphere  that  it  is  restful  to  breathe,  once  in  a  while, 
to  the  dwellers  in  cities  and  the  toilers  of  these  Northern  lands  where 
life  is  such  a  stern  affair." — Denver  Post. 

"  Mr.  Lloyd  Osbourne's  nine  stories  of  the  South  Sea  Islands  ('  Wild 
Justice')  are  told  with  a  Kiplingesque  vigor,  and  well  illustrate  their 
title.  All  are  eminently  readable — not  overweighted  with  tragedy,  as 
is  the  wont  of  tales  that  deal  with  the  remote  regions  of  the  earth." 

— New  York  Timet. 

"Mr.  Osbourne  in  'Wild  Justice'  has  given  us  a  series  of  storie« 
about  the  Samoan  Islands  and  their  islanders  and  their  white  invader*, 
visitors  and  conquerors  which  are  vivid  with  humor  and  pathos." 

—New  York  Herald. 

D.     APPLETON    AND    COMPANY,    NEW    YORK. 


A  GOOD  AUTOMOBILE  STORY. 


Baby  Bullet. 

By  LLOYD  OSBOURNE,  Author  of  "  The  Motor- 
maniacs."  Illustrated.  I2mo.  Ornamental  Cloth, 

$1.50. 

This  is  the  j oiliest,  most  delightfully  humorous  love 
story  that  has  been  written  in  the  last  ten  years.  Baby 
Bullet  is  an  "  orphan  automobile."  It  is  all  through  the 
adoption  of  Baby  Bullet  by  her  travelling  companion  that 
a  dear,  sweet,  human  modern  girl  meets  a  very  nice  young 
man,  and  a  double  romance  is  begun  and  finished  on  an 
automobiling  tour  through  England. 

"  The  story  is  smoothly  written,  full  of  action  and  healthful  fun." 

— Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

"  '  Baby  Bullet '  is  without  doubt  the  best  written  and  most  enter- 
taining automobile  story  yet  published.  The  most  enjoyable  feature  of 
this  book  is  its  genuine,  unforced  humor,  which  finds  expression  not 
only  in  ludicrous  situations,  but  in  bright  and  spirited  dialogue,  keen 
observation  and  natural  characterization." — St.  Paul  Dispatch. 

"Certain  stories  there  are  that  a  man  fervently  wishes  he  might 
claim  as  his  own.  Of  these,  *  Baby  Bullet '  is  one." — Baltimore  Sun. 

"  It  is  broad  comedy,  full  of  adventurous  fun,  clever  and  effective. 
The  tale  is  fascinating  from  the  start.  The  adventures  of  Baby  Bullet 
are  distinctly  funny." — New  York  Sun. 


"  The  characters  are  lightly  drawn,  but  with  great  humor.  It  is  a 
story  that  refreshes  a  tired  brain  and  provokes  a  light  heart." 

— Chicago  Tribune. 

"  It  is  a  most  satisfying  and  humorous  narrative." 

— Indianapolis  News. 

"  One  of  the  funniest  scenes  in  recent  fiction  is  the  escape  of  the 
automobile  party  from  the  peroxide  blonde  who  has  answered  their 
advertisement  for  a  chaperon." — San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY,  NEW  YORK. 


THE  LEADING  NOVEL  OF  TODAY. 


The  Fighting  Chance. 

By  ROBERT  W.  CHAMBERS.  Illustrated  by  A.  Bt 
Wenzell.  I2mo.  Ornamental  Cloth,  $1.50. 

In  "The  Fighting  Chance"  Mr.  Chambers  has  taken 
for  his  hero,  a  young  fellow  who  has  inherited  with  hia 
wealth  a  craving  for  liquor.  The  heroine  has  inherited  a 
certain  rebelliousness  and  dangerous  caprice.  The  two, 
meeting  on  the  brink  of  ruin,  fight  out  their  battles,  two 
weaknesses  joined  with  love  to  make  a  strength.  It  is  re- 
freshing to  find  a  story  about  the  rich  in  which  all  the 
women  are  not  sawdust  at  heart,  nor  all  the  men  satyrs. 
The  rich  have  their  longings,  their  ideals,  their  regrets, 
as  well  as  the  poor ;  they  have  their  struggles  and  inherited 
evils  to  combat.  It  is  a  big  subject,  painted  with  a  big 
brush  and  a  big  heart. 

"  After  '  The  House  of  Mirth '  a  New  York  society  novel 
has  to  be  very  good  not  to  suffer  fearfully  by  comparison. 
'The  Fighting  Chance*  is  very  good  and  it  does  not 
suffer." — Cleveland  Plain  Dealer. 

"There  is  no  more  adorable  person  in  recent  fiction 
than  Sylvia  Landis." — New  York  Evening  Sun, 

"  Drawn  with  a  master  hand." — Toledo  Blade. 

"An  absorbing  tale  which  claims  the  reader's  interest 
to  the  end."— Detroit  Free  Press. 

"  Mr.  Chambers  has  written  many  brilliant  stories,  but 
this  is  his  masterpiece." — Pittsburg  Chronicle  Telegraph. 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY,     NEW    YORK, 


By  DAVID  GRAHAM  PHILLIPS. 
The  Second  Generation. 

Illustrated.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  The  Second  Generation  "  is  a  double-decked  romance 
in  one  volume,  telling  the  two  love-stories  of  a  young 
American  and  his  sister,  reared  in  luxury  and  suddenly  left 
without  means  by  their  father,  who  felt  that  money  was 
proving  their  ruination  and  disinherited  them  for  their  own 
sakes.  Their  struggle  for  life,  love  and  happiness  makes  a 
powerful  love-story  of  the  middle  West. 

'•  The  book  equals  the  best  of  the  great  story  tellers  of  all 
time." — Cleveland  Plain  Dealer. 

"  *  The  Second  Generation,'  by  David  Graham  Phillips,  is  not 
only  the  most  important  novel  of  the  new  year,  but  it  is  one  of  the 
most  important  ones  of  a  number  of  years  past." 

— Philadelphia  Inquirer. 

"A  thoroughly  American  book  is  'The  Second  Generation.' 
.  .  .  The  characters  are  drawn  with  force  and  discrimination." 

— St.  Louis  Globe  Democrat. 

"Mr.  Phillips'  book  is  thoughtful,  well  conceived,  admirably 
written  and  intensely  interesting.  The  story  'works  out'  well, 
and  though  it  is  made  to  sustain  the  theory  of  the  writer  it  does 
so  in  a  very  natural  and  stimulating  manner.  In  the  writing  of  the 
*  problem  novel '  Mr.  Phillips  has  won  a  foremost  place  among  our 
younger  American  authors." — Boston  Herald. 

" '  The  Second  Generation  '  promises  to  become  one  of  the  nota- 
ble novels  of  the  year.  It  will  be  read  and  discussed  while  a  less 
vigorous  novel  will  be  forgotten  within  a  week." 

— Springfield  Union. 

"  David  Graham  Phillips  has  a  way,  a  most  clever  and  convinc- 
ing way,  of  cutting  through  the  veneer  of  snobbishness  and  bringing 
real  men  and  women  to  the  surface.  He  strikes  at  shams,  yet  has 
a  wholesome  belief  in  the  people  behind  them,  and  he  forces  them 
to  justify  his  good  opinions." — Kansas  City  Times. 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY,    NEW    YORK. 


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